


Heartstrings In Your Hands

by MilkTeaMiku



Series: Gravity [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Shiro (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magic, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Mpreg, Multi, Omega Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-10-09 12:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 100
Words: 100,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17406767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: You hold my heartstrings in your hands but I wouldn't want it any other way.-Small ficlets for a variety of pairings and prompts.





	1. Keith/Lance - Seafruit

A soft breeze tinged with the scent of the sea ruffled Lance’s hair and the leaves of the trees around him. He plucked a handful of blue-coloured berries down from the tree in front of him, pinching the stem between two fingers to twist them free. 

The berries were called seafruit, and his family’s farm was known for growing them. Large sand fields sat spread out in neat, even lengths behind their house, up into the hills behind the nearby shoreline. The sand was submerged into several inches of seawater, since the trees required it to grow. They weren’t very tall trees, only reaching a few feet above Lance’s head. They had thin, willowy trunks, made not of wood but of something more like coral. The leaves were short and wide, like apple tree leaves, but clumped thickly together. They were a rich green, but the underside of the leaves was more of a pale blue, which was marvellous to look at from below.

The true star of the fields, as expected, were the seafruits themselves. They were small in size, but larger than the average cherry. One could take a bite out of them if they wanted, or eat the whole thing at once. The outer skin had a slightly glassy sheen to it that glinted quiet beautifully in the sunlight, while the flesh on the inside was soft and watery. The riper the fruit, the sweeter the inside. A truly ripe seafruit would have an almost crystallised skin, one that snapped like baked sugar when first bitten into.

Lance liked being out in the fields to pick the fruit. His siblings sometimes found it tedious, but he never tired of it. He liked wading through the seawater fields, feeling sand between his toes and the breeze on the skin. He liked the sun and the scent of the sea. He didn’t even mind how the seafruit stained his fingertips blue. It was always a beautiful sight to see the berries catching sunlight like the surface of the sea, one he never tired of. And from the fields, he had a clear view of the ocean, just beyond their hills.

Adjusting the wicker basket had had held on his hip, he reached up to the nearest tree to pull more berries free. They made pleasing snapping noises as they fell free of their branches. 

It was a peaceful day. 

Until something disrupted it. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and when he turned his gaze away from the seafruit trees, he saw a giant wolf stumbling across the hill. He went perfectly still, his heart lurching, as he watched the dark beast lurching down the hill, unsteady on its own paws. He’d never seen a wolf that large, and he instinctively knew it wasn’t a normal wolf.

And, as if it could hear its thoughts, it started to shift.

Surprise flittered through him. Shifters were incredibly rare, even more so by the coast, where the terrain was too open for their tastes. People often travelled past the farm, or at least nearby – the hills were a pretty place to be with a view of the ocean, and the shoreline just beyond them was filled with a stretch of sandy beaches perfect for playing at. But shifters? Lance never saw them.

The wolf turned into a man, but this person didn’t look like they were here for the beach. The opposite. He was wearing dark clothes and a hood that shielded most of his face, but his clothes were scuffed and torn. There was a bleeding gash on his arm, and he was limping as he fell to his knees just beyond the field’s edge. 

Lance dropped his basket in shock, scattering seafruit across the water at his ankles where the berries bobbed and floated. He rushed to the edge of the field and clambered out, his legs dripping water. “Are you alright?”

The man looked up at him, his hood falling back. He was surprisingly young – maybe Lance’s age, but not any younger. There was a scar on his right cheek, and a small cut beneath his eye that was still swelling with blood. The minute he saw Lance, a defensive glint came to his eyes, and he reared back with his dagger raised.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Lance said, his palms raised. 

It didn’t seem like the man had the strength to fend him off anyway. He seemed to sag against the weight of his injuries, his grip on his dagger trembling. 

Lance approached, and bent to help the man to his feet. “What happened?”

“Hunters,” the man croaked.

Unease filled Lance. He hadn’t heard of hunters moving this far towards the shore before. Most creatures like shifters lived in forests, or areas imbued with magic, and while the sea was full of energy, the terrain was too open. There was nowhere to hide.

“Come, I’ll take you inside,” Lance said, pulling the man’s arm over his shoulders.

“You’ll be in danger.”

“My family doesn’t share the same view as hunters,” Lance said, “and I’ve already seen what you are.” Not many people who lived in the nearby towns and ports agreed with hunters. Their views were considered outdated and extremist – people like shifters weren’t dangerous, in the same way most humans weren’t dangerous. There were good and bad people of all species.

The man groaned as Lance helped him stand. He leaned into Lance heavily, his head lolling. His skin was hot where it touched Lance’s. “Thank you for helping me,” he whispered. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Lance helped him move around the seafruit fields towards the house. He knew his family would think he was doing the right thing. “You don’t need to worry, nobody expects farmers to be hiding a shifter.”

A brief smile touched Keith’s lips. “Thanks,” he said again.

“My name is Lance, by the way.”

After a hesitant moment, the shifter said, “Keith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another 100 chapters! I'll be adding tags + pairings as they come, but for now I've added what I know I'll definitely write. If you have any prompts, feel free to send them my way!


	2. Curtis/Lance/Shiro - Just

Curtis was quite content with life. 

As a beta, he’d fallen into the stereotype of existing in the background on most occasions. He’d always thought of himself as adequate at best, only moderately talented, only half as interesting as those around them. Betas were known for being neutral, for being passive. He fit that stereotype quite well.

Of course, those opinions were a little self-deprecating. The one who had convinced him that he was more than average was his mate, Shiro. There was nothing average about Shiro, not in any sense of the word. He was a handsome alpha with a pure heart and a gentle soul. Life had not been easy on him – a piloting accident had left him with one arm and a myriad of scars, including a very obvious one over the bridge of his nose.

But Curtis still thought he was the most handsome man he’d ever seen. He was embarrassed to admit that he’d had a crush on Shiro for years before Shiro noticed him. They both worked at the Garrison, though Curtis was a technician and not a pilot like Shiro had been. To be fair, a lot of people admired Shiro. He had an infectious smile and a confidence to him that made others feel safe around him. 

It was after Shiro’s accident that he started noticing Curtis. He still worked at the Garrison training pilots and at the control station, so they were around each other a lot more. At first, their contact had been strictly professional – Curtis’s skills made him one of the directing technicians, and Shiro’s position meant he directed the technicians, so Curtis acted as one of the go-betweens for the station. He received orders and advised Shiro and relayed everything to the technicians working beneath him.

Surprisingly, it was Shiro that made the first move. Curtis never would have been confident enough to. At first, he hadn’t been sure what attracted Shiro to him. He wasn’t exactly the most out-spoken person, and his scent wasn’t very interesting. Wouldn’t a strong alpha like Shiro prefer a sweet-scented omega, or something with a little more… personality? 

He had to admit, however, that having Shiro’s attention was quite the head-rush. Shiro had a focus to him that made him the perfect leader, and that focus transferred to his personal life. His attention never strayed from Curtis when they were together.

Now they’d been mated – and married – for more than two years, after courting for several. Shiro had long since convinced Curtis that there was something special about him. He often came up behind Curtis to nuzzle against his neck, breathing in his scent like it was his favourite thing to smell. He was a very patient lover, and never needed much to make him happy. All Curtis had to do was smile at him and Shiro would flush, his scent bleeding happiness.

It felt nice to be so loved. Shiro made him feel special.

Lately, however, they’d been talking about adding a third to their mateship. It wasn’t an uncommon practice. Having three people often stabilised a mateship, and although theirs was comfortable, something had recently changed.

It wasn’t like they loved each other any less. Their bond was permanent and strong; the mating bite on Curtis’s neck was proof enough of that. Curtis doubted the idea would have ever even come up if it wasn’t for a certain individual catching the attention of both of them.

Lance was quite an interesting person. He was an omega, a few years younger than Curtis and Shiro, and he was an aspiring pilot at the Garrison with a lot of confidence and skill. Shiro often talked about his talent, which Curtis had seen for himself, since he had taken on the role of coordinating the simulation flights training pilots had to regularly take. 

He liked spending time with the lively cadet. Lance had a charming quality to him, and he listened intently to everything Curtis had to say, which Curtis liked. 

“He follows you around like a puppy,” Shiro teased one evening, when they had a late dinner at the Garrison. 

“He does not,” Curtis replied, indignant. He set Shiro’s plate down in front of him, full of food he’d gathered from the canteen. These late dinners were common for them at this time of year. They’d get food from the canteen and eat in Shiro’s office, where his desk made a good table.

“He does,” Shiro insisted. “He definitely has a crush on you, love.”

Curtis didn’t believe it. He’d seen the adoring way Lance looked at Shiro, and the way Lance brightened whenever Shiro praised him for his piloting skills. The omega was entirely entranced by the alpha, and Curtis didn’t blame him. It was easy to admire Shiro, and even easier to love him. Others had had crushes on Shiro before, but Lance’s admiration was different. He was a friend to Shiro first, and he admired him for more than just his looks or his piloting skills. Curtis could tell that Lance liked Shiro for Shiro.

And, instead of feeling jealous, Curtis felt… pleased, in an odd way. 

It took him a while to realise that his more instinctual self – a weaker part of him since he was a beta, when compared to an alpha or omega – was starting to view Lance as a potential mate. Anyone who clearly adored Shiro that much would be a good match for him, right? Curtis had been less concerned about his own happiness (not that Lance would’ve made him unhappy) and more concerned with Shiro’s. He knew that Shiro was fond of Lance; they both were.

He just hadn’t been convinced that Lance would like him as much as he liked Shiro. His old insecurities flared up. To an omega, an alpha would be more attractive, wouldn’t they? Shiro was a wonderful alpha. 

When they talked about it, Shiro was convinced that the situation was reversed. “You don’t see the way he watches you, the way he hangs onto your every word,” Shiro said. “He’s calm around you in a way he’s not around anyone else. It’s like your presence comforts him.”

Curtis frowned, both flustered by the praise and unconvinced of its truth. “He idolises you,” he said. “I’m just…”

Shiro perked a brow, frowning at him too. Curtis looked away. Shiro joined him on the couch in their living room at home, where they were relaxing at the end of the day. He pulled Curtis to his side, nudging his nose against Curtis’s temple. “Just a beta?”

Curtis shrugged, silent.

“You’re more than that, love,” Shiro whispered, kissing his cheek. “I wouldn’t be interested in anyone who didn’t first see your worth.”

Curtis flushed, bowing under Shiro’s gentle affections. “He wouldn’t be interested in me,” Curtis whispered back.

“He already is, I’m sure of it,” Shiro said.

Not wanting to make himself feel bad, Curtis let the subject drop in favour of submitting to Shiro’s embrace. There was nothing more comforting than his alpha’s arms around him.

The conversation seemed to stick with Shiro. They’d discussed the idea of bringing a third into their relationship, and if Lance was amicable, they wanted to court him. How they’d go about asking him was a mystery, but Curtis noticed Shiro acting strangely, thinking to himself more often.

He wasn’t quite sure what was going on until he, Shiro, and Lance were alone together. It was late at night at the Garrison, and the three of them were getting a late dinner at the canteen. A lot of the cadets had already eaten, but Lance’s routine simulation test had been pushed back to a late hour due to scheduling conflicts, so he only just now had time to eat.

Curtis was tired, so he was only half listening to the conversation Shiro and Lance were havening. He was the last to arrive at the table, having doubled back to get the drink he’d forgotten to pick up.

“He doesn’t think he’s attractive,” Shiro was saying, his head bent towards Lance as he leaned across the table to speak to him. “I’ve told him a thousand times that he’s beautiful, but he doesn’t believe me.”

“Shiro!” Curtis hissed, going red from mortification. 

“But you are beautiful!” Lance cried, his blue eyes swinging up towards Curtis like he was personally offended. He was just as red-cheeked as Curtis was, but he barrelled on anyway. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve met!” The redness in his cheeks deepened as his words abruptly stalled, his eyes darting towards Shiro too. “I mean, you– you both are…”

Shiro looked rather smug with himself as he smiled. “Isn’t he just?” he said, as he stared at Curtis, who gave him a sour look in return.

“I’m just a beta,” Curtis argued, “just normal.”

“Just a beta?” Lance repeated, frowning. “But you’re amazing, Curtis. Seriously. You’re so smart and handsome and– and your scent is so wonderful.”

A strange, warm feeling flooded him, making Curtis lower his eyes to hide his blush. Being complimented by the omega he liked made him feel fidgety in the best way possible.

“I mean…” Lance trailed off, giving Shiro a nervous look. “I don’t mean to intrude, or anything…”

Shiro blinked, as if he hadn’t realised that someone was complimenting his mate in the way a potential suitor would, right in front of him. “It’s okay, Lance,” Shiro said, voice comforting. Reassurance filtered into his scent, enveloping the three of them at the table. “We’ve been talking, and we wanted to ask you if you would allow us to court you. This wasn’t exactly the way we planned, but…” He shared a glance with Curtis and then shrugged, his smile never fading. 

Lance’s eyes widened. He was silent for a moment, before choking out, “Really?”

Shiro nodded. When Lance’s eyes darted over to Curtis’s, he nodded too.

“That’d be great,” Lance croaked. “Yes, um. Yes please.”

Elation sparked through Curtis. Shiro dropped a hand onto Curtis’s thigh beneath the table, squeezing gently. He was happy too.

“Wait, is that why you’re acting so…?” Lance waved a hand at Shiro, who tipped his head back with a laugh.

“Yes, I was proving a point to my beautiful beta here,” he said, pulling Curtis closer. “He thought you didn’t like him.”

Lance rubbed the back of his neck, shyly glancing up at Curtis. “Not going to lie, I’ve had a crush on you since I first saw you, when you programmed my first sim-flight.”

“What?” Curtis squeezed out.

Lance gave him an embarrassed grin. “You were just so pretty and serious! It’s why I failed that first test, I couldn’t stop glancing back at you.”

Curtis remembered that. He’d thought Lance was motion sick or something. A lot of cadets were their first time. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, you just made me feel really safe. A lot of people here have really intense scents, you know?” It was true that a lot of omegas were better at discerning scents than betas or alphas. “But your scent was just… clear, and soft.”

Curtis smiled a little.

“And then to find out you were mated to Shiro was just– wow.”

“Told you he liked you, too,” Curtis said to his alpha.

Both Lance and Shiro just laughed. Yes, Curtis was quite content with life. How could he not be?


	3. Keith/Lance - Plateau

The walls of the underwater channel glowed with bioluminescent mosses and corals. Lance trailed his fingers through them, watching flowery coral stems curl in on themselves as he swam past. The channel itself stretched between two neighbouring territories in the sea, one that was familiar to Lance – claimed by his shoal – and another that was unclaimed, and the sight of a lot of skirmishes. 

It wasn’t exactly safe. Most young mers like him were told to stay within their territories, since that was where they had protection from older members of their shoals. It could be dangerous out in the open ocean, especially in unclaimed territories. Different species of mers had different behavioural patterns, and while ones like Lance formed close family and community bonds, others were individuals who roamed the sea and attacked any loners they found.

In a clamshell, unclaimed territories were rife with danger. 

But that wasn’t exactly stopping him from swimming through the channel. He’d done it a few times before, and each time, a restless anxiety filled him. He was used to the towering coral forests and swaying kelp fields of his home, where arching stone mazes and caves carved within underwater cliff faces were home to his shoal members. The further he got away from his territory, the more unfamiliar the scenery became.

Eventually he reached the end of the channel, where the rock walls on either side widened, giving him a view of a large plateau. There was a sheer drop off just beyond the channel, one that would take him several minutes to reach the bottom of. Beyond that, far enough that he could only just see the edge, was the end of the plateau, and then it was completely open ocean. 

He hesitated by the end of the channel, clinging to the rock as he stared out over the plateau. He didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean it was empty out there. Something insistent had been drawing him away from his shoal for a while, and he’d been struggling to ignore it for a long time. Evidently, he’d given in. Several times now.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what was driving him to explore. Mers his age were often driven to find a mate, but that was usually done within their territory. After all, why would a mer like Lance risk his safety to find a mate outside the protection of his shoal? It didn’t make sense, and yet there he was, desperate to explore the plateau. It was maddening. 

After taking in a shaky breath, he pushed out beyond the channel’s entrance, and dove down towards the plateau floor. He stuck as close to the rocks as he could, darting between protruding lumps of stone and branches to hide in the shadows as much as he could.

As expected, it took him several minutes to swim down to the plateau floor. He weaved around corals and tall seagrasses, constantly scenting the water for foreign scents. Being this near to unclaimed territory made the water smell strange; almost stagnant, like it was unused. He didn’t really like it; it smelt unfamiliar and confusing, like his nose couldn’t discern how old scents were, or where they’d originally come from.

Those concerns didn’t make him turn back, though. Every time he’d come here, he’d explored a little further, and that day was no different. Grasses tickled his sides as he swam through them. He beat his tail in even lengths, letting his lacy fins trail through the water around him. It was quiet out here in a way that was hard to get used to.

He expected nothing to happen. The last few times he’d been here had seen nothing but emptiness. He felt a constant sense of danger, but little else. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed by that or not. This time, however, was different. 

As he rounded a cluster of coral-covered rocks, a sudden shift in the water startled him. He darted beneath an overhanging of plants, his eyes fearfully scanning the water above him. A shadow passed over the corals, making his fins flinch inwards. It wasn’t immediately clear what the shadow was, but when Lance inched outwards, he caught sight of it.

The shadow belonged to a shark mer. Unlike Lance, he didn’t have decorative or lacy fins, nor was his tail covered in coloured scales. Instead he was sleek and grey, with black-tipped fins and a clearly muscled tail. Faint scars marked his right fin. When he made a sweep over Lance, his face came into view – he was quite handsome, despite a scar dipping off his right cheek beneath his chin. He had a serious expression, and a stern set to his eyebrows, but his eyes were bright.

Suddenly intrigued, Lance edged out from beneath the plants, waiting a moment for the shark to spot him. When he did, he paused in his circling, staring down at Lance with a cocked head.

There was something about him that Lance couldn’t look away from.

The shark drifted down closer, each beat of his tail purposeful and powerful. Lance held himself still as the shark approached, a curious look on his angular face. “You’re far from home,” the shark said.

Lance hesitated, before saying, “I am.”

“You’re not afraid?”

“Of you?”

The shark drifted closer, so close that Lance could see his pointed canine teeth, and the sharpness of his fins. “Of me,” the shark agreed, “or of being out here. Alone.”

An unusual feeling twisted around in Lance’s stomach, one he couldn’t quite place, but thought was a mix of fear and instincts telling him he had nothing to worry about. Unsure which to listen to, he hesitated again, trying to get a better read on the shark’s expression. “I have a feeling I’ll be fine,” he eventually said.

“Oh?” The shark swam down in front of Lance, boxing him in beneath the overhanging plants. Lance could smell his scent, just faintly, but that was only half as distracting as the warmth emanating from the shark’s body. Most normal sharks were cold-blooded, but mersharks had the rare ability to control their body temperature, so that they could raise it in order to put on a burst of speed while hunting.

And, it seemed, to attract a mate. It was definitely working.

Lance swam closer, feeling a spark of confidence. “You won’t hurt me, will you?” he asked, eyes innocently wide as he brushed his fins against the shark, just gently. 

The shark twisted around in place to watch Lance swim past him, eyes fixated. “No,” he said. “I won’t.”

Lance grinned, feeling his cheeks flush. Perhaps he had been driven this far from his shoal in search of a mate after all, and now he’d found one. “What’s your name?”

“Keith.”

“I’m Lance,” he said. He was delighted when Keith turned to follow him, sticking resolutely close by, close enough that their tails touched. It was a very possessive, claiming gesture, one that was universal among all mers. It made Lance tingle with a hopeful feeling. “Do you want to come back to the shoal?”

“They won’t mind?”

Lance shook his head. A lot of sharks roamed until they found a mate, then settled down with their mate’s shoal, if there was one. He was sure the connection he felt to Keith meant they were compatible mates. What other reason would he have for wanting to travel away from the shoal? He felt like a persistent itch had been scratched, and now he was hoping that Keith felt the same way. He had every right to refuse Lance’s invitation. 

But he didn’t. Keith followed after Lance, one hand coming down to rest on Lance’s back as he hovered over him, protective. “Lead the way.”


	4. Curtis/Lance/Shiro - Blue-Eyed

Lance swiped through all the recent photos he’d taken on his phone, distracted. His mates always complained that he took too many photos, but their complaining was only ever half-hearted. He knew they liked the photos. After all, most of them were of their little family, especially their daughter, who was now a year and a half old.

“Look at this one,” Lance cooed, leaning over to nudge Shiro with his elbow, his phone brandished. It showed a picture of Curtis with their daughter cuddled up to him, their cheeks pressed together. Curtis hadn’t been aware Lance was taking the photo, and he’d been incredibly embarrassed afterwards, but Lance loved it.

“Cute,” Shiro agreed, as he pressed a kiss to Lance’s hair. “Can you send it to me, please?”

“Sure.”

Looking at his phone was a good way to distract himself from the current situation. He was at an omega doctor’s centre, waiting for his appointment time. He’d been feeling a little sick lately, and his cycle had been off for a month or so. His doctor had gotten some tests done, and now he was waiting for the results. It was a little nerve-wracking, if he were honest. Being sick around a toddler was difficult, especially when she was so curious about every little thing he did.

After a moment, his doctor – a friendly beta woman – called them in. “How are you feeling today, Lance?” she asked, as she ushered him and Shiro through the door.

“Alright, thank you.”

“And the little one? How is she doing?”

A soft smile touched Lance’s face, as it always did when he thought about his child. “She’s wonderful.”

“Good, I’m glad.” The doctor sat down at her desk, shuffling around paperwork. “Here for those test results, right?” 

Lance nodded. Shiro reached for his hand and squeezed gently, his touch and his subtle alpha scent comforting. 

“Well, I have some good news,” she said, swivelling around to face him, a piece of paper in her hand. “Your test results came back negative for anything worrisome, so I had your blood tested for something else. I thought it might be a long shot since I know the circumstances surrounding your last heat… but, here. Have a look.”

Lance took the paper from her, confused. His last heat had been a bit of a mess. Since little Novia had been born, he’d only had two heats – the first was short and dry, more of a way for his body to kick the last of his pregnancy hormones out, like a detox. It was normal for recently pregnant omegas to go through a dry heat or two after giving birth. 

The second one, however, had been badly timed. Lance was usually quite regular, but that heat had been abrupt, catching him and his mates by surprise. Shiro had been away on a business trip, so it had been entirely up to Curtis to deal with Lance. He’d scrambled to find someone who could look after Novia, but it had worked out eventually. Even if Lance had been upset Shiro wasn’t there, he was relieved to have Curtis with him. The beta was exceptionally good at taking care of him, and comforted him in the exact way he needed.

After quickly scanning the paper, Lance felt his mouth drop open with surprise. Shiro leaned over to read the paper too, and let out a surprised noise as he came to the same conclusion Lance had. Lance had to cough a little to get his voice working as he glanced up to meet his doctor’s eyes. “Really?” 

She grinned, nodding. “Really.” 

 

Coming home always filled Lance with a sense of familiar relief, because he knew his baby was home, and like most omegas he wasn’t fond of being separated from his family. He could smell Curtis and Novia’s scents, and it settled down a part of him he hadn’t noticed was ruffled.

Shiro guided him inside with a hand on the small of Lance’s back. “Do you want to tell him, or should I?” he asked, raising a brow.

“I will,” Lance said.

Shiro nodded.

They entered together, and almost instantly Lance heard an excited squeal come from the living room. When he rounded the doorway, he saw Curtis sitting on the floor, gently wiggling his fingers against Novia’s sides. She had her favourite stuffed lion clutched to her chest and seemed to have been in the middle of playing with him before Curtis had started tickling her.

The sight of her so happy made Lance grin. She had Shiro’s black hair and warm brown eyes, and a skin colour that seemed like a mix of both of them. Shiro always said that she had Lance’s smile, but Lance thought her charm was entirely from her alpha father. Lance was sure she was an alpha, though it would be a few more years before any of them knew for certain. 

Lance was secretly quite happy that she seemed to take after Shiro so much. He knew that any children he bore would most likely be Shiro’s. It was harder for betas to naturally sire children, especially when an alpha was thrown in. Before they’d considered having children, they’d discussed the possibility that Curtis might not be the father of any of them, but that hadn’t bothered the beta at all. He loved Novia with all of his heart – he’d cried when she was born, and was more than willing to take the night shifts just so he could watch her sleep, no matter how tired he was.

When he noticed them in the doorway, Curtis glanced up and smiled, pulling Novia into his lap. “How’d it go?”

“Good,” Lance said. He crouched down and opened his arms, delighted when Novia let out an excited giggle and began to toddle towards him. He scooped her up with a purr and planted a wet kiss on her cheek, breathing in her soft scent. “Did you have a fun morning, my little supernova?”

Novia was too distracted to reply. She pawed at his chin and cheeks, leaning her head forwards until he kissed the tip of her nose, making her burst into giggles again. After scenting her to ease his instincts, he passed her off to Shiro, who immediately did the same. 

Lance went to sit down on the floor next to Curtis, who immediately tucked Lance into his side. He pressed his cheek against Lance’s hair, subtly scenting him. Betas were less intense with their instincts, and their scents weren’t as dominating as an alpha’s or an omega’s. Lance liked Curtis’s neutral scent, and he hummed as he felt it wash over him. 

“So what did the doctor say?” Curtis asked, when he was satisfied.

Lance fiddled with the end of his shirt, and then met Curtis’s eyes. “I’m pregnant,” he said.

It took a moment for Curtis to register the words, but his eyes widened when they did, and he grinned. “You are?”

“Yeah.”

Happiness bloomed on Curtis’s scent, one that made Lance feel dizzy in the best way possible. “That’s amazing!” he said, nuzzling Lance closer again. “I can’t believe it. You’re really having another baby?”

Lance laughed, and nodded again.

Shiro sat on the couch beside them, Novia tucked into the crook of his neck, where she looked on the verge of dozing. “A blue-eyed baby this time,” he said, a cheeky smile pulling at his lips as he gave Curtis a pointed look.

“Blue eyes?” Curtis repeated. “How can you know?”

Shiro’s smile widened.

Lance knew the moment it clicked for Curtis. His expression betrayed his surprise, and after a moment of silence, his gaze darted to Lance. “Wait,” he said, and then he went silent again. “Wait, wait.”

Lance leaned his elbow back on the couch behind him, his chin in his hand. 

“It’s… it’s mine?” Curtis whispered.

“I wasn’t here for Lance’s last heat,” Shiro said.

Tears sprung to Curtis’s eyes, like he couldn’t stop himself from crying. Lance pulled him closer, letting Curtis fold his tall frame down against his chest. “Aw,” Lance cooed, his scent honey-thick with comfort in response to seeing one of his mates get teary, “it’s alright, don’t cry.”

“I’m just happy,” came Curtis’s muffled voice.

Shiro drifted closer, carefully jostling Novia into one arm so he could put his hand on the back of Curtis’s head. His scent was reacting to Curtis as well, going heavy and warm, like a winter blanket enveloping the room. It made Curtis sniffle.

“I’m just happy,” he repeated, looking up. “I’d be happy to have another of Shiro’s pups, too…”

“I know,” Lance soothed, running his fingertips over Curtis’s cheek. “We know you’d love our children regardless of who sired them – we feel the same. But you’re allowed to feel happy over this too, Curtis.”

“I know I am,” Shiro declared. “I want a little Curtis running around.”

Curtis sniffled again, giving Shiro a heart-melting look.

Lance grinned. He’d never been happier.


	5. Keith/Lance - Frost

Ice sizzled as Lance called a blade to his palm. Water droplets collected in the air around his hand, condensing with a hiss as they froze in the shape of a jagged dagger. The cold didn’t burn his skin like it would’ve for any other person. 

Ahead of him, four frost bandits stood snarling, their muzzles peeled back to bare a snout full of razor-sharp teeth. They had the body and head of a large snow fox, but their legs were scaled like a fish, and their tails ended in a fin. They could flick their ears open wider to make a secondary pair of fins on their head, like a frill. It didn’t matter if they were on land or in water – they were fast and dangerous.

It was rare for them to travel so far from the waterways. Lance wondered what had provoked them, but had no time to think as one lunged. He stepped back, his feet light on the snow beneath him. The bandit scrambled around, jaws snapping at air as it dug its clawed feet deep into the snow. Before it could relaunch itself, Lance lunged, sinking the ice in his hand into its flank. The bandit shrieked and skittered away, its maroon blood splashing across the snow.

Two others darted forwards, yipping and snarling as they dove for him. He called two more shards of ice into his hands and flung them. One flew wide, sailing off into a mound of snow nearby, but the other sunk into the shoulder of one of the bandits, sending it crashing down. The second slammed into him, teeth sinking into Lance’s arm. He wore no armour – it was too heavy when he was walking on ice or swimming – so the bandit drew blood.

He shouted in pain, prying its teeth free of his skin. In a rush, he pressed his palm against its belly and released a burst of ice. The bandit yelped and flew through the air, slumping limp into the snow. Lance stumbled backwards, his head spinning as he clutched his hand over the bleeding wound. The fourth bandit lunged, tackling him to the ground. He produced another dagger in a split second and shoved it sideways into the bandit’s mouth, keeping its teeth from clamping down onto him. They struggled, the bandit’s teeth chipping deeper and deeper into the ice before Lance finally threw it off.

In one wide arc, he thrust out his hand palm first, and watched as an explosion of ice branched out ahead of him. The bandits were frozen solid instantly, their white fur gaining a glittering sheen through the thick ice. He knew they’d be able to wiggle out of it eventually; cold could not kill bandits, and their talons were sharp enough to claw through ice a lot denser than he could make.

Lance hunched over his knees, panting. He’d been exhausted before making the trek out here, and using that much magic had depleted his reservoirs. He knew he wouldn’t have enough left in him to close the bite mark on his arm, so he left it bleeding. It took a few moments for him to cool down after exerting himself, but one his body had stopped overheating, the frigid air congealed the blood, and it stopped dripping. 

When he’d caught his breath, he continued on his previous path, the one he’d been walking before he’d stumbled across the frost bandits. He was still a distance away from the waterways, which was why he hadn’t been expecting the bandits. It took him several long minutes to reach the waterway, where the river was mostly frozen over, aside from the rapids, which still moved fast enough to keep the surface clear of ice.

It was towards the rapids that he headed, still clutching his aching arm. He’d left traps in the water for fish, and he was desperately hoping they were full. Even in the dead of winter animals still travelled beneath the ice, unfazed by the cold. In other territories, he heard that animals would sleep through the cold months, oblivious to the beauty of a world shrouded in ice and snow. Here, however, where winter reigned for most of the year, animals had no such habits.

When he reached the rapids, he froze his feet to the shoreline to keep himself balanced, and hauled the traps up into the open air. The first was empty, making him swear, but the second had several plump fish flailing around. Lance let out a sound of relief as he saw them. He froze them solid, panting as he felt his entire body stretch thin at the strain of it. But it worked, and he scooped the fish into the lined backpack he had on his back, one that would keep the ice from melting or the fish from going bad.

Even just seeing the fish made him tremble with hunger. Conflicts at the border had meant the river was waning of food, which was probably why the bandits had strayed so far from its banks. 

Still, with his fish in tow, he picked his way back towards the snow and headed home. He passed the frozen block of frost bandits, who had chipped away at the ice already, and then disappeared back into the snow-capped trees of the nearby forest. 

It took him the better part of an hour to get back to his hideout. He didn’t want to go directly there in case anyone was following his tracks, and instead looped around, even though it took him three times as long. 

Eventually he saw the markers he’d left to direct himself to the hideout. It was less of a house and more of a cave of opportunity, hastily found before the cold could damage the person Lance needed to hide in it. When he found the cave, he glanced around, then moved aside the curtain of ice shielding the entrance. Inside was much warmer than out – he’d cleared away the snow and brought in at least half a dozen blankest to pad the floor. There was still a small fire crackling towards the back of the cave. Smoke was minimal since the plant life around here didn’t produce much when burned. It was hardly enough to even produce a smoky scent.

Near the fire, curled up in the mountain of blankets, was Keith.

He wasn’t from around here. In fact, Lance had never met anyone like him. Keith hadn’t noticed Lance coming in, and after giving a noticeable shiver, he stuck his hand out from between the blankets and shot a small burst of flames towards the fire. It briefly roared, and then settled into a blaze more intense than before. Warmth flooded the cave.

“It’s hot in here,” Lance remarked.

Keith startled, his wild eyes swinging towards Lance. “You’re back.”

Lance moved over to the fire and set his bag down. “I found a few fish. Do you eat them?”

Keith’s hand caught Lance’s wrist, his grip so tight it was on the edge of painful. “You’re hurt.”

Lance paused, his thoughts stalling. Keith’s concern still surprised him, even after all they’d been through in the last few days. He’d first found Keith on the verge of freezing to death in the river a few days ago, and since then they’d been on the run, hiding from soldiers from the next territory over. They were the same soldiers causing conflicts on the border, and neither Lance’s nor Keith’s peoples aligned with them.

But he and Keith weren’t aligned, either.

They were complete opposites, so perhaps that wasn’t surprising. Fire was uncommon around here, almost never used. There were lanterns made from ice that were lit with fire – it eventually melted the lanterns, which were then refrozen. Some foods were cooked with fire. Other than that, they had no need for it. 

However, Lance held no animosity towards Keith. It was more like curiosity, if anything. Something about Keith drew him in, made him want to protect him. It helped that Keith acted the same towards him, he supposed. There had been one instance when they’d first when Keith had thrown himself in front of a blade meant for Lance. The soldiers had chased them far down the river – chased Keith, who had stumbled across Lance, thus drawing Lance into his mess.

Now they were in it together. 

“What happened?” Keith demanded.

“Just frost bandits,” Lance soothed, drawing his arm away. “The wound is already freezing over.” That was a bit of a lie, and he was not surprised to see that Keith didn’t believe him.

“You look exhausted,” Keith said. He looked like he wanted to yank Lance down by the fire, but resisted, knowing that would do Lance more harm than good. “You should be out in the cold.”

“I just need to rest,” Lance muttered. He nudged the bag towards Keith. “Do you need to cook these?”

“I don’t eat them raw, no.”

“Alright, then leave one raw for me and have the rest.”

Keith gave him a look.

“I get more energy from the cold than I do from food,” he said, which was the truth. He added, “Unlike you.”

Keith grumbled, but didn’t complain anymore. While he cooked his fish, Lance ducked outside, and threw himself down into the snow. The cold seeped into his skin – his clothes bared the upper portion of his arms and his midriff, and feeling the snow against him directly was relieving. 

He wasn’t sure what was going to happen in the future, or even tomorrow. But his instincts were telling him to stay by Keith. He knew that they shouldn’t get along – their natures were just so different – but even if they bickered, Lance couldn’t leave Keith behind. He had a feeling Keith felt the same, too. Sometimes when they slept at night, he’d wake to find Keith staring at him, like he was afraid Lance might not wake up. It was a strange amount of care for someone who’d only known him for a few days, but the same feelings were echoed in Lance himself, so he didn’t question them.

Perhaps they were destined to be together. He’d have to wait and see.

For the time being, he allowed the cold to recharge his energy, and then dragged himself back inside. The smell of cooking meat was unusual and he wrinkled his nose up at it, but didn’t complain as he took a seat beside Keith, still brushing snow off his skin. Keith passed over his fish – he’d left Lance two, taking only two for himself. 

Together they ate in silence. When Lance was done, he cleaned the blood off his arm and froze the wound shut under Keith’s watchful gaze. 

For now, it was enough.


	6. Keith/Lance - Bravery

Keith flinched at the sounds of the crowd around him. He’d grown used to silence and found the noise of living people around him invasive. He wanted to shrink into his cloak, pull his hood up over his head to shroud his face, but he knew Shiro wouldn’t let him if he tried. This was meant to be an experiment, something small to get him used to being out in public again.

It wasn’t going well.

“Just walk slowly,” Shiro instructed, his voice a low, even murmur as he walked beside Keith. “Keep your chin up.”

Keith was grinding his teeth so hard he thought they were going to break. Being around people felt oppressive, like there were walls closing in on him. He wanted to go home where he could brood in the privacy of his room. He’d been hidden in there for so long that being outside was foreign and unsettling.

“You’re doing well,” Shiro noted, when he saw Keith tensing. 

He didn’t feel like he was doing well. He felt like he was going to go off on the first person who accidentally brushed against him, like he was a slowly ticking bomb. It wasn’t like he was in a dangerous place, or like anyone here would hurt him. It was just a harvest market, the same market that was held once every week. 

On either side of the market square, stalls lined with colourful banners and awnings sat in neat rows. Farmers, bakers, and crafters came from all over to sell their wares and buy new things. Everyone wore their cheeriest clothes, and children flittered around with flowers stuck behind their ears, giggling and playing. He saw couples walking arm in arm, and dogs darting between stalls begging for food with wide eyes, and people smiling.

It was so… unfamiliar. A few months of isolation had ruined him, and the worst part of it was that it was all self-inflicted. Unbidden, he lifted his hand to trace the scar on his right cheek, following it down beneath his chin towards his neck. It didn’t hurt anymore, and it healed as much as it would for now. Time would surely lessen its colour, but Keith was impatient, and time was endless.

He hated the scar and everything it stood for. He hated that he’d fought, that he’d killed, that he’d hurt and been hurt. He hated the way the scar made people look at him. It was like he could hear their pitying, angered, frightened thoughts. 

Slowly, he and Shiro progressed through the market. Keith could hardly stand the feel of sunlight against his skin. He kept his eyes away from faces, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. It was hard to ignore movement flickering out of the corner of his eyes – a banner in the breeze, a ribbon in a little girl’s hair, an apple being tossed between the hands of a seller. His mind told him that every movement was a threat, was a soldier hiding in the shadows, waiting to carve their name into his skin.

“Keith?”

“I’m fine,” he bit out, casting Shiro a sour glance. He knew he shouldn’t be so mean, but the words came spitting out of him before he had a chance to stop them. Shiro was like a brother to him – in arms, and in family. They’d fought together, grown up together. Shiro had all but raised him. Keith had nothing to complain about, not when he looked at Shiro, knowing there were dozens of scars beneath his clothes, the worst of all those surrounding the amputation site where his arm had been removed. 

He closed his eyes, and reminded himself of something important Shiro had told him months ago, when he had first returned from the battlefield. 

Some scars were inflicted where others couldn’t see them, in places impossible to treat. They might never heal, and that was something he had to come to terms with. 

Shiro was right, of course, but Keith was still struggling to digest that advice. He could barely stand to look in the mirror knowing he’d see the pain he’d inflicted on others reflected back at him. How could he begin to come to terms with the psychological scars when he couldn’t even face the physical ones? Thinking on it, he knew it wasn’t even entirely the scar that bothered him. When he caught a glimpse of his face, he didn’t startle, thinking it was a stranger staring back at him. He recognised himself in mirrors. 

It was what the scars meant to him that he despised.

Miserable, Keith cast his eyes around, trying to find something to take his mind off of things. Shiro seemed to be enjoying himself. The sun energised him, and he was friendly and approachable. Even with his scars, he smiled, and people leaned towards him the same way flowers leaned towards the sun. Even Keith did.

Keith stared at the stalls as they passed, clenching his hands to keep them from tugging his hood over his head. There was a honey stall where glass jars lined a tabletop. Little bees had been drawn on the stall’s banner. There were flower stalls too, where flowers of every colour and size sat in overflowing wicker baskets and little pots. Some were tied with ribbons to make a freshly cut bouquet. As they passed one, the woman behind the stall passed a yellow flower to Shiro, who took it with an embarrassed smile and a grateful thank you. He gave it to Keith, who took it only because he didn’t want to disappoint Shiro.

Concentrating on the flower made tension bleed out of him. If he was too rough, then he’d crush the stem, or shake free the petals from the flower’s centre. Eventually his grip relaxed, and he let out a shaky breath. 

The smell of bread filled his senses and drew his attention elsewhere. There were bakers’ stalls where colourful, glazed pastries and loaves of bread wrapped in paper sat in little woven baskets. They passed a stall where candied and caramel apples glinted in the warm morning sun, and another where spun sugar and shaped chocolate treats captured the awe-filled gazes of passing children. 

Further along the lane, a relatively small stall caught Keith’s eye. It was nestled between a stall selling homewares like feathered dreamcatchers and hand-embroidered tapestries and a stall full of books and tied scrolls. It was a glassware store, not something that usually interested him. But the way the stall’s wares caught the sunlight was mesmerizing.

Keith drifted closer, twirling the yellow flower between his fingers. He’d never seen glass liked this. There were a collection of pretty beads and marbles in a wooden bowl beside a small display of figurines. He spied a dolphin with swirls of blue inside its body, and a mouse with a maroon tail and ears, and a hummingbird with pink and green wings. They were just a few of many.

Cautious, he edged further into the stall. There were more varied pieces inside – bowls and vases and little jewellery pieces like hair pins, as well as wind chimes that twinkled in the breeze. When he stepped into the shade of the stall, it was like stepping into another world. The noise of the market dimmed, and he closed his eyes as he listened to the wind chimes, to the way the wind caught the paperweight hanging from their centre, knocking around the bead inside them.

“Do you like them?”

He jumped at the voice, his heart lurching into his throat. Behind him was a man who looked to be his age, with eyes a brighter blue than the glass creations around them, ones that sparkled more than them, too. There was a soft smile on his face, one that looked like it belonged there, like it was the natural shape of his lips. He didn’t seem fazed by Keith’s standoffishness. 

“My family makes them,” he continued, his eyes straying from Keith to the glassware with an unmistakable fondness. “I help make the wind chimes, and the jewellery.” 

Keith tried to choke down the lump in his throat. “They’re nice,” he croaked.

The man gave him a dazzling smile. “I’m Lance, by the way.”

“Keith.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Keith,” Lance said. He peered closer at Keith, his expression light and easy. “What were you looking at?”

Keith glanced at the wind chimes. “They sound good,” he said, voice rough. He had to force himself to ease his grip on the flower again.

“Yeah, they’re quite lovely when there’s a breeze,” Lance answered wandering over to let his fingers dance through the dangling paperweights. The resulting chimes were high and pleasant. “My Ma makes most of them, she’s really good at making the patterns. You know, when they’re done, she always makes sure that the first breeze they feel is one from the sea.”

“The sea?” There was a nearby ocean, one the town sat adjacent to. Shiro had taken Keith down to the shore, but it hadn’t really cheered him. He was too miserable to find any beauty in the world.

Lance nodded. “She says that the energy from a sea breeze is cleansing, and that wind chimes who first ring from a sea breeze sound the clearest. I don’t know how true that is, though,” he laughed. “But it makes them seem a little magical, right?”

Keith couldn’t do anything but nod. He was surprised that his heart felt a little lighter at Lance’s words, and he found that he was believing in the magic of them, just a bit. It might have been wishful thinking, but that didn’t change the way he felt. He couldn’t deny that his head felt easier to lift.

“You look tired.” The words were soft and free of judgement. Lance met his eyes, and he didn’t look… concerned or anything, just like he was making a statement. It was a relief from the worry and pity Keith usually got. “Hold on a moment.”

Keith waited, confused, as Lance turned towards the display and let out a little thoughtful hum. After a moment he turned back around, one hand closed. He reached for Keith’s free hand and put something small and cool into his palm, then curled Keith’s fingers over it, so he couldn’t see it.

“You keep this,” Lance said, “to inspire bravery. I feel like you might need it.”

Keith’s heart gave a little flutter. Would bravery help him heal? “I don’t have money…”

Lance shook his head, his hands still cupped around Keith’s. His touch was soothing and effortlessly gentle. “I didn’t ask for any.”

Flustered, Keith’s thoughts stalled for a moment, and then he shoved the yellow flower forwards. “Here,” he said, the word rushed, before he let out a strangled noise and hastily speared the stem behind Lance’s ear. “In exchange.”

Lance seemed surprised for a moment, and then he smiled, bright and sunny. “Thanks, Keith.”

He couldn’t think of any other things to say, so he nodded, and ducked out of the stall before his embarrassment could get the better of him. He wondered how he’d even gotten embarrassed in the first place. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything like that.

“There you are,” Shiro said, appearing beside Keith. He had an armful of sweet-smelling bread that crinkled in its paper wrapping when he walked. “Thought I lost you for a moment.”

Keith grunted. Thankfully, Shiro didn’t push the conversation, and they continued on their walk. Shiro didn’t notice the missing flower, or if he did, he didn’t ask about it. Keith was more than content to keep his head down. It took several long minutes before he felt confident enough to uncurl his fingers, exposing the little figurine nestled in his palm.

It was a tiny red lion. For bravery, Lance had said. Keith smiled to himself. 

Red was his favourite colour.


	7. Keith/Lance - Sacrifice

Lance came around to the unfamiliar sound of wheels clunking over a hard dirt road. It took several moments for his mind to make sense of where he was – his hands were bound with rope so tight they had marked burns into his skin. There was a cloth tied around his mouth, and his cheek was pressed into the floor in the back a closed wooden cart. Everything was dark.

He hardly remembered what had happened to him. After being separated from his family by a storm, he’d gotten lost on the road, and had wound up in a small, backwater village he hadn’t even known existed. The town was situated at the peak of a valley; its western side looked out over a sharp cliff face, with the valley spread out before it.

Lance knew that he shouldn’t have strayed so close to the valley and in hindsight, he wished he hadn’t risked it. Everyone knew that the valley was home to dangerous creatures. No one dared stray into it.

But that didn’t explain why he was currently tied up in the back of a cart. He tried to twist his hands free but it was impossible; the ropes were too tight. He couldn’t spit out the cloth in his mouth, either. It didn’t really inhibit his breathing, so he tried to calm his panting, and closed his eyes once more. His head was pounding, and he worried he’d been hit. It would certainly explain why he was so dizzy, and why he didn’t remember getting tied up.

Several long minutes passed until the cart came to a stop. There were muffled voices outside, speaking some words in a language he didn’t understand, but others that he did. The doors of the cart were flung open, and torchlight spilled in. He flinched in fear as two villagers grabbed him and hauled him out, their meaty hands holding him in place. 

An older man in a dark cloak hissed at the villagers holding him, one wrinkled hand gesturing wildly. Behind him was a stone alter, one that looked old, and was so badly in disrepair that it was crumbling. Half-melted candles were stacked on the worn rocks, illuminating carved runes Lance didn’t recognise. He was thrown down before the rocks, and the cloaked man forced a hand on the back of Lance’s head, keeping him bowed over despite his pained cry.

“Great dragon,” the man crooned, the syllables twisted and ugly in his mouth, “we have brought you a worthy sacrifice!”

Sacrifice? Lance tried to squirm away, but the old man’s fingers tightened in his hair, keeping him in place. He looked out past the crumbling alter and saw a clear view of the valley. It was so late at night that the only source of light was the moon, but it was wane. The valley was little more than a sea of darkness spread out before him.

The man released a string of sentences that Lance didn’t understand, aside from the words “blue eyes”. When he looked up, glancing at the villagers holding torches around him, none of them had blue eyes. Only he did. Was that why he’d been targeted? Did no one else in their village have blue eyes?

After a moment, a torch was tossed down beside Lance, sending glowing embers up into the air. He flinched away from it, and let out a muffled gasp as he was suddenly thrown to the ground as the man released him. The villagers backed away, and Lance struggled back up onto his knees, eyes frightful and wide.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then a low rumbling came from the valley. Lance tensed, his gaze swinging towards the space ahead of him. An orange glow began to emerge from the darkness, one that expanded and shrunk like a heartbeat. A warm wind brushed over Lance’s face.

One clawed foot hooked over the edge of the cliff ahead. There was a heave in the air, and another low rumble as a beast’s head appeared over the edge. The beast was scaled and black, with slitted, violet eyes. Dark horns curled out from just behind its temple, and when it opened its mouth to growl, the amber glow brightened. Embers like the ones from the torch drifted out of its mouth, bright and sparking.

There were shocked murmurs and gasps behind Lance as the dragon heaved itself over the edge of the cliff. There was only a short distance between the cliff and the alter – less than twenty feet – but the dragon was so large that it crossed the entire expanse just standing. A long, spiked tail lashed back and forth as it stood, claws dug into the earth. 

It was huge.

And it was staring right at him.

Lance froze as he met the dragon’s eyes. He was sure he was crying, but the dragon’s breath was so hot that his tears dried up as soon as they spilled over. He’d never seen a dragon before, at least not one that spit fire from its mouth. There were dragons in the sea, but those were only in deep waters, and even when he’d sailed far out he’d never seen more than their shadows.

But this one was mighty. He could feel its power before it had shown any of it. The villagers must have been terrified it was going to raid their village and kill their people – maybe it had before. They must’ve been sacrificing people to it to keep it happy. That certainly didn’t bode well for him.

The dragon lowered its head, letting out another dangerous rumble. It never closed its mouth, and the embers never stopped showering past its sizeable teeth. In one sudden burst of movement, it lunged forwards, its claws tearing up the ground. Lance cried out as it leapt towards him, then over him, its jaws making a deafening noise like thunder as it snapped at people. The villagers screamed, and Lance heard the crunch of wood as the dragon demolished the cart.

Lance looked over his shoulder, terrified, as the villagers ran. The dragon released a stream of fire that singed the land behind them. It was angry.

The dragon closed its mouth with an audible crack. It turned to look at him, eyes narrowed, and then came closer. Lance squeezed his eyes closed as the dragon breathed across him. It opened its mouth, and the glow had disappeared. Its teeth hooked into the back of Lance’s tunic and he yelped as it lifted him from the ground. He was only weightless for a moment before he was deposited on its back.

His knees clamped around it. Large spikes lined its spine, from the back of the dragon’s head all the way down to its tail. He was sat between two of them, and although his hands were tied, he could get a good grip on one as the dragon bounded towards the cliff. Its wings, large and leathery, flicked outwards, and then they were airborne.

Lance was sure he passed out for a little bit as the dragon soared through the air. He was suddenly glad he was gagged, otherwise he was sure he would have thrown up.

When his grogginess faded, he was being set back down on the ground. He knew they were in the valley because trees taller than any other filled every space around him, as far as he could see. There was a cave behind him, one protected by boulders marked with claw marks, indicating the dragon had moved them. Lance stumbled against the cave entrance, his knees giving out. He watched the dragon disappear into the cave, and then after a moment where strange bone-crackling noises were heard, a man reappeared.

He wasn’t a normal man. Leathery wings sat folded against his back, and he had a tail, and curled horns extending above his head. Scales sat around his eyes almost like freckles.

“Come here,” the man said, voice rough and ashy. There was a faint orange glow behind his eyes, one that made Lance flinch. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Lance swallowed, his heart racing. He kept himself still as the man – the dragon? – approached. He took Lance’s arms and used one talon-like nail to slice through the rope like it was nothing more than a ribbon. He removed the cloth from around Lance’s mouth, too.

“You’re…” Lance croaked.

“A dragon, yes,” the man said dryly. “Are you alright?”

Lance remained silent.

A flicker of irritation went through the dragon’s eyes. “I don’t eat people, you know,” he said, though he didn’t sound angry at Lance. “Every time they bring someone to that damned alter I take them away to safety. I try and stay away from humans.”

Lance swallowed again, rubbing at his wrists. “Why do they keep sacrificing people then?”

“How am I meant to know? I’m not the only dragon that’s lived in this valley. There were others before me.”

“Thank you,” Lance murmured, “you know, for not eating me.”

That seemed to make the dragon relax a little. He nodded, and guided Lance into the cave. “I’ll take you out of the valley tomorrow, when it’s not dark outside. You should get some rest.”

Inside the cave was a nest of blankest that looked surprisingly soft and clean. There was a basket full of fruit and a barrel of water, too. “You live here?”

“Not always. I prefer a house to a cave.”

Lance flushed, feeling like he’d made a fool of himself. He’d never met a dragon like this before, but of course someone who walked and talked like a normal human would prefer the comforts of normal people. “Sorry.”

The dragon turned away. He began gathering kindling and dumping it into a fire pit at the cave’s entrance. “It’s fine. You’re not from around here.”

“How’d you know?”

The dragon glanced at him over his shoulder. “You don’t look like the humans around here. Your skin is darker, and it’s incredibly rare to see blue eyes from the surrounding villagers. Only outsiders have your colouring.”

“I’m from the seaside,” Lance explained.

“You’re far from home.”

“My village was evacuated when raiders were spotted further down along the coast,” he whispered. “I got separated from my family when we tried to skirt around the edge of the valley.”

“Ah.”

Lance lowered himself onto one of the blankets, letting out an uneasy sigh. His situation was terrible, but he wasn’t frightened of the dragon anymore. He felt… safe. It was confusing. “What’s your name?”

“Keith. Yours?”

“Lance.” He watched, enraptured, as Keith built a fire in record time. “I’ve never met someone like you before.”

“I’ve never met a human who didn’t run from me crying, either. You’re a first. You’re not afraid?”

“Not… not really,” Lance admitted, meeting Keith’s eyes. “It would have been really easy to kill me by now.”

Keith spared him a small smile. “I’ll take you home,” he promised. “I have no interest in human sacrifices.”

“Well that’s good, since I have no interest in being a sacrifice,” Lance said. “Why do you go out of the valley if you don’t care about the sacrifices?”

“It’s the alter,” Keith said, his voice suddenly bitter. “While it still stands it draws me there, no matter how hard I want to stay away. An old magic binds me to it, and I cannot be free of it unless the alter is completely destroyed. It is the same for any dragon who has lived in this valley while humans practice such rituals.”

“You mean you have no choice but to stay?”

Keith nodded. “Time is doing a slow job of ruining it.”

“I’ll destroy it,” Lance said. 

Keith’s eyes widened with something unnameable. “You… you’ll destroy it? To free me?”

He nodded. “It’s the least I can do.”

Keith’s tail flicked as he thought for a moment. “I’d be very grateful,” he eventually said.

“It’s a deal, then.”


	8. Keith/Lance - Pollen

The sound of breaking glass startled Lance from sleep. He shoved at his mountain of blankets, pushing them off as he struggled upright. His cottage had a raised platform where he slept in his nest, and while none of the windows up here were shattered, he knew there were others on the main floor. 

He listened for sounds, heart pounding, his breath held. Glass crunched, and then there was a thump that made him flinch before everything went quiet. A few moments passed where nothing else happened, so he swallowed, and slipped out of his nest. 

When he peered over the banister of the platform, he saw the expanse of his home beneath him – the kitchen to one side, the living room and day lounge to the other, with a dining table just peeking out beneath the balcony’s edge. And there, having crashed through the windows behind the day lounge, was a wolf.

Recognition fluttered through him, his fingers briefly tightening around the banister’s railing. “Keith?” he called. There was no response, but he knew his eyes weren’t deceiving him. His wings fluttered against his back with his surprise, unravelling the soft bindings he kept them in while he was sleeping. He vaulted over the banister and floated down to the bottom level, beating his wings to lessen the impact of his bare feet against the wooden floor.

Keith was slumped against the floor, half-tangled in the curtains he’d crashed through. His black fur glinted with shards of glass. Lance crouched down beside him, lifting the giant wolf’s head into his lap as he searched for signs of consciousness. The wolf let out a pained whine, his eyes closed. He didn’t respond to Lance’s touch.

Lance had been living in this forest for as long as he could remember. He, along with other faeries, each owned portions of land that they were responsible for. Not many mortals wandered into these woods – they were enchanted from top to bottom, and humans didn’t respond well to magic. It tricked their minds, made them see and feel things that weren’t there, and miss things that were. Only magical folk could withstand the magic here.

Despite the lack of mortals, there were plenty of animals and magic beasts roaming through the trees. Keith was one of them. He was a shifter who’d showed up a few months prior, angry and territorial, as most shifters were. He didn’t care much for faeries, but he’d taken territories from other beasts, and now a lot of the land he controlled was in Lance’s territory. Lance took it upon himself to watch out for Keith because of that, even if Keith hadn’t wanted his attention at first.

But it came in handy to have a faery around. Lance could heal wounds and make trees grow and cleanse the river water. He did a lot to preserve his little corner of the forest, and that meant keeping the beasts from killing each other. It had been a while since one as powerful as Keith had strayed in his direction, so Lance was interested. It helped that Keith could shift into a more humanoid form, one with which he could speak the common language.

Truthfully, Lance was quite fond of him. He visited other faeries frequently, and often had chats with wandering warlocks or beast tamers who came to the enchanted forest to train, but talking with Keith was like a breath of fresh air. The wolf was like a silent companion, and Lance appreciated that. Keith often walked beside him while Lance patrolled the forest. He’d even recently started letting Lance ride on his back.

To see him so weak was a shock. Lance hastily ran his fingers through Keith’s fur, tracing his sides and beneath his muzzle and the back of his head looking for wounds, but he found none. He couldn’t smell blood, either. 

When he drew his hands back, he realised what the problem was.

A faint purple dust clung to his fingertips. It was dark, but Keith’s fur was darker, and in the low moonlight it would have been impossible to see if he hadn’t gotten it on himself. As a faery, his blood had certain resistances to things naturally found in nature, like poisons and paralysing agents that could be seen in plants, or even in certain species of beasts (there was one particular fish that had stinging quills on its fins, and Lance thought those were rather nasty even if their venom didn’t affect him). 

The same could not be said for Keith. Even if he was naturally strong, with claws and teeth perfect for attacking, he didn’t have resistance to poisons. Lance knew the purple residue well – it was the spores that a certain type of bird had naturally in their feathers. They could release it with a particularly hard flap of their wings, and often did to poison their foes. Even if they were small, about the size of an average crow, they were violent and mean. It had been a long time since Lance had seen them in his territory.

“Just hold still, Keith,” Lance whispered, as he put his palm between Keith’s eyes, his fingers curving over the top of Keith’s skull, between his flattened ears. “I can fix you.”

A blue glow began to emanate from beneath his palm. For a few long minutes, it simply hovered there, pulsing like a heartbeat. Then, slowly, the glow began to sink beneath Keith’s fur, disappearing inside of him. Keith’s eyes flickered open, revealing the same blue glow lingering behind his irises, before he closed his eyes again with a pitiful whine.

As the last dredges of light faded, Lance let out a tired sigh. Healing magic was exhausting to use because it relied on his own energy stores. If he was drained, then he’d be able to heal little more than a papercut. He supposed it was fortunate that he’d been resting, and most of his energy had returned. 

Lance lowered Keith’s head back down and set about untangling him from the curtain. He used his magic to sweep away the broken glass, concentrating hard to make the pieces fly back up to the window and fix themselves. It took a minute, but when he was done the window was as good as new. Simple magic like that was far easier than healing magic, and required a lot less of him.

When his home was clean, he flew back up to the platform, and dragged half the blankets back down with him. He tucked Keith in and made sure he was comfortable before curling up against his side. His fur was clean of pollen now – clean of dirt and leaves, too. Magic was useful for that.

Lance pressed his cheek against Keith’s back, keeping one protective hand resting against the ridge of his spine. Keith stirred when he felt Lance’s weight against him, and shifted around, his body forming a crescent around Lance. His eyes peeled open, meeting Lance’s gaze with a grateful look. He picked up his head and nudged Lance’s cheek, rumbling.

“You’re welcome,” Lance whispered, as he urged Keith to lay his head down again. “Rest, now.”


	9. Keith/Lance - Relive

A violent hush fell over the world as a wave collapsed over his head. Lance sunk beneath the waves, watching the surface rise higher and higher above him, until it was a nothing but a blurry wisp of running currents. Water flooded his nose, his eyes, salt burning his throat as the sea stole his breath. The tide pulled him in all directions but up. 

Soon enough, the faint light coming through the heavy clouds above could no longer penetrate the thick, roiling water. The last few desperate silver bubbles of breath in his lungs scattered past his lips. Everything burned, and burned, and burned, his skin stretched impossibly tight, his eyes open and scorched, his muscles plucked at like strings on an instrument, blind to the hands pushing him under.

Then the burning stopped.

And there was nothing more.

 

Soft sheets beckoned him to return back to sleep. A tired noise escaped him, and sleepily, Lance raised his head, blinking into the low morning light. It was the middle of winter, so the sun was a later riser than he was, and the only light outside was what breached though the thick layer of clouds in the sky. Still, he felt at peace, his mind cushioned by dreamless sleep.

Except, for a brief moment, he felt like he sensed something in the air. Something dangerous.

But it passed quickly, so quickly he forgot about it.

“Keith?” he called into the quiet of the room.

The returning call came from another room. “In here, Lance.”

Slowly, he pushed the sheets away, and slipped away from the bed. Cold morning air nipped at his exposed skin and his bare toes, making him shiver. He rubbed his arms with his hands as he padded out of the bedroom, casting his eyes around for his companion. Keith was in the kitchen, hunched over the bench deftly chopping fruit. The small woven basket they kept their cherries and plums in was empty. When Lance rounded the bench, he saw that Keith had sliced the last of their bread and set it aside their dwindling jar of honey, reading for eating.

“Not eggs for breakfast today, then?” he asked.

“Thought you might like something sweet.” Keith nudged the sliced fruit into a large bowl sitting by his arm, where slices of pears and mandarins wedges sat waiting, then set down his knife. He met Lance at the edge of the bench and hooked an arm around his waist, pulling him in for a kiss.

“How unusual,” Lance teased.

“Something different,” Keith clarified.

Warmth filled Lance’s chest. He rested his head against Keith’s shoulder, taking a moment to commit their closeness to memory. It had taken a long time to get here.

At first, they hadn’t liked each other. They were opposites, as opposing as the sun and moon. But, like their celestial counterparts, it seemed they were fated to forever chase after one another. Cruel competitiveness turned to teasing, and an aversion to one another’s presence became a relentless need for closeness. 

Of course, things weren’t that easy. They never were. Lance was from Altea, a country with only one enemy: the Galra. Keith was Galran, but born into a rebellious faction, one that the Galra regime was intent on crushing. He had suffered much tragedy before he came across Lance, suffering the loss of his clan, his mentors, his parents. He only had hope that his mother had somehow lived, but her whereabouts were currently unknown, and no amount of searching had ever changed that for him. 

The Galra were forbidden from being with Alteans. That had been a factor of their instant dislike to one another, at first. But their circumstances had changed. In the end, Keith had proved his disloyalty to his people if not his loyalty to the Alteans, which was as much as they could ask of him. They, along with others from Altea, had been involved in a plot against the Galran dictator, Zarkon. 

Only, things hadn’t gone to plan. The supposed Galran traitor son, Prince Lotor, who had pledged to help them, double crossed them. After Zarkon’s demise, Lotor had rallied the Galran troops against them, vowing to destroy Altea and the rebel factions – he had gained an army and a kingdom and they had done the work for him.

After that, Keith was seen as a traitor to the Galra, and to the Alteans. He was blamed for Lotor’s actions, but Lance knew he was innocent, even if no one else chose to believe that. He and Keith were close by then, too close to hide their connection to one another. His allies thought he was blinded by compassion for Keith, but the truth was that it opened his eyes. He knew not all Galra were monsters, no matter how monstrous their actions could be. Keith was proof enough of that.

And so he was branded a traitor, too.

Now they were on the run, hiding away in a small seaside village in the hopes that they would be safe. Never had they been allowed to express affection for one another, not around their allies – out of embarrassment and fear of their opinion – or around their enemies, for obvious reasons. It pained Lance to think about it. He often wondered if, one day, their names would be cleared.

He also wondered if he would live to see it.

“We’re going to have to get more food soon,” he whispered, as he eventually pulled away from Keith to glance around their quaint kitchen. Their home was an oasis, and he never wanted to leave it. Here he could be with Keith and that was all he wanted. Not even the call of the nearby sea was enough to turn his gaze away from the man he had by his side.

Keith never liked the idea of venturing into town, but they had little choice. Winter meant they couldn’t grow as much food in their garden as normal, and that hunting was scarce in the woods behind their home.

“Here.” In lieu of response, Keith nudged the plate of bread and the honey jar towards him. Lance took the food to their dining table, and waited for Keith to join him with the fruit before eating.

As he raised the first forkful of fruit to his lips, he suddenly paused. An uneasy tendril curled through his stomach, one that made him lower his fork. Keith glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. Lance managed a weak smile. “Must just be because it’s different.”

He’d never been one to ignore strange warnings like that, and it made him almost instantly anxious. His instincts had never steered him wrong; he was known for being able to sense danger when it was coming. It probably contributed to his companions thinking he was a traitor for not knowing about Lotor’s ulterior motives.

As he ate, Lance had the uncanny feeling that something was going to happen. He tried to squash it down, but it persisted. He cast looks out of their windows, but nothing was amiss in the white-washed world outside. Storm clouds were rolling in from the direction of the sea, but that was nothing unusual for this time of year.

After breakfast, Lance gathered the fruit basket and money they’d stolen away with them when they’d gone on the run, and set out for town. Keith saw him off at the door, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before he left.

Neither one of them noticed a watchful magpie sitting on the gutter of the house above the door.

For the most part, Lance kept a cloak’s hood over his face as he ventured into the village. He first visited a fruit market, talking to the seller with a slight accent to help disguise himself, and then set off towards the butcher’s. 

He didn’t notice the magpie hopping across the ground after him then, either.

Almost everyone in Altea knew his face, or at least what he looked like. He’d grown his hair a bit longer in an attempt to hide himself better, and was, for once, glad that his colouring was quite average in the country. Keith’s purple eyes would have revealed him instantly, so he rarely left the house.

Soon his basket was full. Thunder was starting to rumble across the sea, which was just beside the town. Stalls of produce were swiftly packed away, and windows were shut. A gust of wind ruffled Lance’s cloak, tossing the hood off his head. He lifted his arm to shield his face and listened as lightning cracked in the near distance.

It was that crack that sent the magpie flying past his face. It erupted off of a nearby fence post in a flurry of feathers, letting out a desolate, regretful caw as it spiralled up into the sky. 

Seeing it made everything in Lance freeze.

 _How many times have I walked past that bird?_ His thoughts were a mess.

In all of the world, he and Keith only had one ally left, one man whose faith in them never wavered. Takashi Shirogane was a mentor and trainer to Lance, and family to Keith, as good as a brother in everything but blood. He was a powerful man, one who’d been involved in the Altean plot, on the side of the Alteans. Like Altean royalty and many Galra, he had an uncanny ability, one that he’d gained after being tortured by Galran scientists, and one that was considered as good as magic – he could control magpies. 

He sent the birds when there was danger coming their way, like a warning. But, like with all magics, there was limits to what he could do. Distance greatly inhibited him, and the birds weren’t created by magic, so they didn’t have any sense of unwavering loyalty or commitment to Shiro’s orders. They’d come to Lance and Keith, but made no effort to be noticed. Lance and Keith had to look for the omen itself – the most Shiro could do was provide it.

And, for the most part, that had always been enough. More than enough. But not today.

The basket fell from his grip, sending fruit scattering across the ground. He began to run, heading back in the direction of the cottage, his thoughts full of Keith. That same feeling of unease struck him again, and he could taste danger on the air once more. He scolded himself for ignoring it when he first woke up, and again when he was eating breakfast.

Magic was on the horizon and that was very, very bad.

By the time the house came into view, he was wheezing for breath, his legs aching. He threw the door open and slammed it behind him, his trembling fingers struggling with the locks.

“Keith?” he called.

Keith was up and coming towards him the moment the door slammed, looking concerned. “Lance? What’s wrong?”

“The magpie,” he gasped, stumbling towards Keith. “I saw the magpie, Keith. Something bad is coming. Something really bad.”

Keith’s expression hardened. He snatched his cloak off the hook by the door and turned Lance around, rapidly undoing the locks. “We’re leaving now,” he said.

“But our home…”

Keith just shook his head.

Thunder rumbled as they fled their home. Lance was flooded with the sense that this had happened before, and it confused him. The magic on the air was becoming so thick now that he could almost feel it against his skin, like oil.

A sudden burst of purple energy washed over the trees to their right. Lance ducked, snatching up Keith’s hand as he jerked him in the opposite direction. He heard shouts in Galran, and glanced at Keith for a translation.

Keith winced. “They’re after us,” he confirmed. “But they’re saying Alteans are here too.”

Lance felt sick. He didn’t respond as they ducked through trees, but he flinched every time a crack of lightning struck the earth near them. Soon the sound of rushing waves reached his ears, and they burst out of the trees into a small clearing at a cliff’s edge. A low wooden fence was the only thing stopping anyone from plunging over the edge into the sea below.

Crashing came from the trees behind them. Lance whipped around, backing up as Keith threw an arm out in front of him. Keith always carried his prized dagger on him, and he already had it out and raised. There was a ferocious look in his eyes.

The first assailant rushed towards them from the left. They were Galran, wearing traditional Galran armour. Keith lunged to meet their blow, sending metal clashing against metal as their blades met. Lance backed up again, eyes anxiously tracking Keith’s movements. After a moment of combat, Keith thrust his dagger forwards, and the Galra soldier collapsed. When Keith pulled his blade free, it was soaked with dark blood.

Another shock of purple energy shot out from the trees. Keith scrambled backwards, joining Lance again as the energy sailed past them.

Figures emerged from the tree line. There were half a dozen Galra soldiers and, leading them, the traitor Prince himself.

“Lotor,” Keith hissed.

“We meet again, traitor,” Lotor grinned, voice low and slick, pulling free the sword at his hip. “I’m going to enjoy cutting you down.”

A wave of blue came from the right. There was an explosion of air as the Galran soldiers were battered by blue energy, an attack Lance knew all too well.

Alteans appeared out of the trees, led by Princess Allura. Lance had once considered her a friend, but after being manipulated by Lotor, she too had doubted Keith, and that was enough to drive them apart. Her magic was the only kind strong enough to combat Lotor’s, and the traitor Prince knew that. He sent a snarl in her direction, turning towards her.

“Capture them,” Allura ordered her soldiers, throwing out a hand towards Lance and Keith. “I’ll deal with the traitor Prince.” 

“Kill them!” Lotor shouted. “Kill them all!”

The opposing sides crashed together as arcs of energy bridged the gap between them. Two splintered off from each group to run towards Lance and Keith, but Keith’s actions were quicker. He stabbed another soldier, and Lance jumped in to steal their sword, spinning to face the incoming Alteans. He’d been trained by the King – he knew what he was doing with the weapon.

A rattle ran down his arms as he pressed against one of the Altean’s swords. There was a brief moment where they struggled before disengaging. Lance spun around, swinging the blade wide to drive it up under the Altean’s. He didn’t want to kill them. They were once his people, and the only betrayal he’d ever done to them was loving Keith. For that, he’d never be sorry. 

But they didn’t deserve death because of that. None of them did.

Grunting, he parried another blow, spinning to sweep the sword downwards. It clattered low on the Altean’s sword, and as he ducked beneath a swing from the second one, he swung again. This time the edge of the blade caught the Altean in the arm, making them shriek with pain. He lifted his leg and kicked out, the sole of his foot meeting the Altean’s chest and sending them sprawling into the dirt.

One down.

Adrenaline kept him moving. He stepped back several feet, and his back met Keith’s. For a fraction of a second, their eyes met, and then Keith was grabbing him by the hip and twisting them around, so that he could lunge at the incoming Altean with his dagger. Lance found himself face to face with a single Galran soldier, the other already a bleeding heap in the dirt. 

He charged, ducking under one swipe to deliver his own. His sword clattered against the Galran’s armour, hitting at the wrong angle to make contact. The Galran thrust his elbow forwards, cracking Lance in the shoulder and making him yelp. He stumbled back and regained his grip on his sword, panting.

In one movement, the Galran lunged forwards. If Lance hadn’t learned their movements from Keith than the speed would have unbalanced him, but he was ready for it. He held his ground for one second, two, and then feinted to the side, spinning on his heel at the very last moment to drive his blade forwards. 

This time it pierced through a gap in the Galran’s armour, driving fast into flesh. Blood pulsed out of the wound and dripped into the dirt before the Galran collapsed. 

He had no qualms about killing a Galran.

Keith’s back met his again. Lance surveyed the field, his eyes moving faster than his brain could keep up with. The soldiers that had split off to capture them were all dead or down, but the ones battling beside the traitor Prince and Altean Princess were standing. Lance watched as one Altean ran clean through a Galran, and as a Galran sliced an Altean’s neck, cutting deep enough to make them gurgle their last breath.

Plumes of energy rippled through the air. Lotor’s movements were quick and sharp, like a wildcat. He delivered blows like they were blades and not magic, wielding his magic like a weapon. He was rough and reckless. Allura moved differently, like her body was made from air and not bones. Her energy domed around her like a shield, fending off blows with a steadiness that was intimidating. Even as sweat dripped from her brow, she never faltered, not even as her soldiers fell around her.

Lance’s throat squeezed at the sight of her. He’d been beside her for years, and when she’d turned on Keith – turned on him – he’d been devastated. She was a good woman, with a just and moral soul, but her hatred for the Galra blinded her to her humanity.

But something had changed since the last time he’d seen her. He didn’t know what it was, but whatever it happened to be, it drove him to do something stupid.

He saw the minute Lotor got the upper hand. He was relentless, moving without exhaustion, even though he was spending his energy just as fast as Allura was. When she took a step back, he threw himself forwards, one arm reeled back to deliver a death blow.

Without thinking about it, Lance threw his sword. It was cumbersome, but it sailed through the air nevertheless, carving a line between the opposing royals. Allura steadied herself, panting, as her gaze swung towards him. “Lance,” she said, eyes wide, but that was all.

In that moment, Lance knew.

He knew that she’d realised she was wrong.

That he hadn’t betrayed her by loving Keith.

That neither of them were the traitors she’d thought them to be.

Lotor turned towards him, and released another stream of energy. Lance and Keith separated, diving out of the way as it cut through the cliff fence behind them. 

“This is how it ends, Allura,” Lotor shouted, as purple energy began to swirl around his hand. A screech built up in the air. “Your deaths are destined, starting with the rebel traitor!”

Time seemed to slow. Lance pushed to his feet, watching as energy arched off of Lotor’s arm, piercing the air like lighting.

Towards Keith.

Allura shouted, but her voice was lost in the noise of the arrack. A dome of blue energy swelled around her, but it was too slow to stop the energy blasting through the air. There was no way she could stop it before it reached them.

Lance didn’t even think. Between dying or seeing Keith die, there was one option. There would only ever be one option. 

_Why didn’t I see that bird?_

He threw himself in front of Keith. The energy hit him like a clap of thunder, throwing him off his feet. He felt his back impact the cracked fence, blowing splinters and wooden debris up into the air. For a moment, he was weightless. Behind his eyes, he could see the desperate flap of the magpie’s wings.

And then he was falling over the cliff. 

He heard Keith screaming. Keith’s hands reached out, fingers spread as far as they could, but he was already too far away. Lance slipped through his grip. Their gaze met, just for a second, before the world seemed to speed up, and he was falling, falling, falling.

He saw a flash of blue energy, one larger than any he’d seen before. Allura’s voice rang through the air, through his ears, through his mind, imbued with magic. It echoed in the air, a hissing crackle of static electricity. _“Live again!”_

_Live again._

_Again._

_Again._

_Again._

_Why didn’t I see that damn bird?_

A violent hush fell over the world as a wave collapsed over his head. Lance sunk beneath the waves, watching the surface rise higher and higher above him, until it was a nothing but a blurry wisp of running currents. Water flooded his nose, his eyes, salt burning his throat as the sea stole his breath. The tide pulled him in all directions but up. 

Soon enough, the faint light coming through the heavy clouds above could no longer penetrate the thick, roiling water. The last few desperate silver bubbles of breath in his lungs scattered past his lips. Everything burned, and burned, and burned, his skin stretched impossibly tight, his eyes open and scorched, his muscles plucked at like strings on an instrument, blind to the hands pushing him under.

Then the burning stopped.

And there was nothing more.


	10. Keith/Lance - Wielder

Lance groaned as he threw himself back onto his bed. He was uncomfortably sweaty, and he plucked at his blue uniform, glad that it was sleeveless. He’d seen the fire wielders in their restrictive, full-sleeved uniforms and winced in sympathy. He didn’t know how they handled the heat outside when they were pushed so hard in training, but perhaps they were just used to it. They could produce flames, after all.

Sighing, he lifted a hand above his head, watching as thin threads of water danced between his fingers. He was one of the more advanced students in his class, so he hated falling short of the standard he set for himself. As one of the older students, he set an example for every one of the younger water wielders – his teachers said so. All the students in the advanced classes had to project their strength and dexterity in wielding their element, not only to inspire the younger ones, but also to create a proud image for their house.

He lowered his hand back down to his bed with a frustrated scowl. He’d been pushing himself hard lately, trying to learn new movements and positions, the kind of ones needed for proper element wielding. His muscles ached, and the place he pulled energy from to wield water felt stretched thin and on the verge of empty. Any sort of wielding required a certain amount of energy – there was always a cost. Advanced wielding required more, but as a person trained, the amount of energy they had increased, like a muscle being exercised.

It was strenuous work. He’d been hoping to succeed with a strength exercise he’d been attempting for the past few days, but once again, he’d failed. Only this time his instructors had been there to see, and they’d gently suggested he return to the previous exercise. It wasn’t strange to think he needed to work harder at what he already knew to succeed in what he didn’t, but it still stung. 

There was a knock at the door that made him jerk upright. Each element had a large, stylistic cabin where all the students slept together. The water house was located right beside a beach, and was furnished like a villa. There were beds and hammocks to sleep in, and so much sand tracked in that they hardly bothered to sweep it out. The windows that faced the sea were never shut, and each support beam in the house was shaped like a trident, their house symbol.

Lance knew that none of the other water wielders would be done with their daily duties, so who else would be coming by?

A familiar dark head peered in at him, glancing around. 

“Keith,” Lance said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you leave the training hall,” Keith said, as he slipped inside and quickly shut the door behind him. He was wearing the normal fire wielder uniform, but looked no worse for wear in the late spring heat outside. 

Houses were considered sacred places for the wielders inside. Crossing into a house one didn’t belong to was on the verge of forbidden. It was considered inappropriate to enter another’s house, and seriously bad luck, too. 

Of course, Keith had expressed multiple times that he didn’t believe in such things. Fire wielders tended to be more impulsive than any of their elemental counterparts, and weren’t often very cautious people. Keith was good at sneaking around, though that mostly consisted of sneaking into water wielder buildings to find Lance.

“Why aren’t you training?” Keith asked, as he sat down on the bed.

Lance let out a frustrated huff. “Exhausted myself,” he grumbled. “The teachers suggested I cool off for a bit, then go back to the previous exercises.”

Keith hummed. “You going to?”

Lance shrugged. He knew Keith would disregard their teacher’s instructions if he’d gotten them, but he didn’t have the same sense of rebellious confidence. Wielding fire required reckless energy and a wild, but strong spirit; water needed a smooth mind and steady hands. A conflicted mind was a barrier between one’s self and their wielding ability. A water bearer needed flexibility to control their element.

It could be a difficult thing to master. 

“I don’t want to backtrack, but it might be necessary,” Lance eventually said with a ragged sigh. “Maybe if I perfect what I already know, then I won’t struggle so much with this.”

“Maybe,” Keith conceded. He laid back down on the bed and patted the space beside him.

After casting a reluctant glance out the window, Lance joined him. Keith grabbed him and pulled him closer, letting Lance rest against his chest. His fingers absentmindedly wandered up to play with the ends of Lance’s hair.

“You seem tense about this,” Keith said after a minute, when Lance failed to relax.

“Just… disappointed,” he admitted. 

Keith hummed in understanding. “You’ll get the hang of it,” he said.

“So confident?”

“I have no doubts.”

That made Lance smile a little. He knew Keith wasn’t the type of person to lie – he was very straight forward and never really said anything flowery or complimentary just for the sake of being complimentary. He believed the things he said, especially the good things, so Lance believed him too. If Keith thought he could do it, then he should believe in himself.

“I’ll try again tomorrow,” he said, feeling impulsive but at ease. 

Keith nodded. “Good.” His fingers starting curling through Lance’s hair again, uncharacteristically gentle for his stoic personality. Lance relaxed under the gentle pressure, closing his eyes. He knew Keith would keep an eye out for anyone returning to the house.

Perhaps others would fine their pairing strange – not because of their houses, though that was one factor, but because they were so different. But Lance believed it was their differences that made them work together so well. And Keith understood him, almost better than anyone else from any of the houses. 

That was enough for him.


	11. Lance/Shiro - Wilds

The soft sound of wind chimes woke Shiro from a restful night of sleep. He let his mind wander as it slowly climbed its way towards full consciousness, drifting in that warm space between full sleep and the waking world. A breeze came in from the still-open window, which he’d neglected to completely shut the precious night. It was already pleasantly warm outside, the breeze told him as much.

When he felt ready, he got himself out of bed, and wandered bare foot into the kitchen to make himself coffee. The smell of it made his stomach tense in a good way. Coffee was a rare commodity in the fey wilds, so he treasured every jar he got. Several minutes later, he had a steaming mug clasped between his hands, and he’d made his way onto the front porch to drink it in the morning light.

A wonderful view of the fey wilds greeted him, as it did every morning. The city was sprawling as far out as he could see from his home. There were no high rises here, not like in human-made cities; nothing was built higher than the tallest trees in the dense groves that dotted the city. The skyline was clear and flush with colour.

Shiro found the fey wilds to be particularly beautiful. He’d grown up in the darklands, where the sky was always filled with roiling purple smog and the only plants that grew were ones that were poisonous or emphatically dangerous. Of course, most of them couldn’t hurt him, since he was a creature of the darklands; a native, essentially. But it was still unpleasant. Crime rates there were enormous, and scuffles were common. Shiro certainly had the scars to show for it.

In any case, the fey wilds were the exact opposite. Nature flourished in competition with itself; everywhere one looked, they would see flowers trying to grow more beautifully than their neighbours, trees reaching out their branches as far as they could go, birds singing more harmoniously than any choir could manage. This place was imbued with magic of a mysterious and ethereal kind, unlike the savagery sloughing off the darklands.

He loved it.

But perhaps that had more to do with a person than the city itself, no matter how scenic it was.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a cat appeared at the edge of the lawn, a silk ribbon sitting around its neck like a collar. It trotted up to him, looking like what humans called a Russian blue, though its uncannily blue eyes gave it away as magic. The cat gave him an affectionate look, and then in one elegant leap, it jumped up into his folded arms. Little blue droplet-shaped sparks of energy flittered away from its paws as it made the leap. It pawed its way up to sit around his neck like a scarf, purring up a storm.

“Good morning to you, too,” he said, amused, as he turned his head to let the cat nuzzled his cheek. Its whiskers tickled his skin as its tail delicately wrapped around his neck, the end flicking. “Why don’t you go and get something to eat? You must be hungry.”

The cat gave a little chirrup of assent and leapt back off his shoulder, landing silently with another shower of magic sparks. He watched it travel inside past him and then turned his gaze back out on the city, content to finish his coffee. He could hear the city stirring; the birds never stopped singing – nightingales and other such nocturnal birds were just as wonderful at singing as daytime birds – but the people did. He could hear windows being opened, and little flurries of magic as people began to water their gardens, encouraging their plants to grow, or setting about on their day.

After a while, he heard rustling in the kitchen, which was then followed by the appearance of Lance, who came to stand beside him. He was wearing a loose tunic and a pair of soft tight-fitting pants; the clothes he preferred to relax in. Wisps of magic were still emanating off of his skin, giving him a cool chill that Shiro couldn’t help but lean into.

“How was your night?” Shiro asked, as he put an arm around Lance’s waist.

“Relatively uneventful,” Lance sighed. He had a fey pastry in his hand, which he took a bite out of – it was bread shaped like a seashell, full of blue cream on the inside that was made out of seaberries. Lance wasn’t from the fey wilds, but from fey territory just adjacent, one that was half in the sea. His magic allowed him to transform into a cat, among other things. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“No.” Lance took another rueful bite of his pastry. “They didn’t have the scroll I was looking for – and I travelled so far, too! Do you know how inconvenient it is to have a store only people with shifter magic can enter? I mean, honestly.”

Shiro chuckled. “I get that,” he teased. He couldn’t shift with his magic. It was quite a rare skill, which made Lance’s proficiency in it very admirable. Some stores, like the one Lance had visited, only catered to certain kinds of magic. To keep out people who’d use the magic with ill intent, or use it against a person who had it, was one reason some stores developed charms to keep only the appropriate customers around. If Shiro had entered, the magic would have turned him right around, like he’d walked in a circle. For Lance, however, entrance was easy.

Provided he turned into a cat.

And, of course, magics like that had strange limitations and costs. All magic did, really. For shifters, it meant they had to stay in their shifted form for a total of twelve hours. Shiro had spent the previous night with a curled up cat on his lap instead of his boyfriend, and Lance had been out all night, so morning had come before he could turn back.

After taking the last few bites of his pastry, Lance dusted off his fingers and turned to bury himself against Shiro’s chest. “You’re so warm,” he mumbled.

Shiro laughed, a little louder this time. He ran the flat of his palm up and down Lance’s back, standing there quietly as he felt the last dredges of cold wash away from Lance’s skin. 

“Nice and toasty,” Lance cooed.

Shiro patted him on the back. “So silly,” he said, fond.

Lance grinned up at him. “I’ll find that scroll eventually,” he declared.

“I know.”

“Want to have a proper breakfast with me now?” Lance asked, blinking all doe-like as if Shiro wouldn’t give him anything he wanted. “More than just pastry and coffee, I mean. Maybe we could go to that human café you like so much.”

Shiro made a contemplative noise, though he wasn’t quite able to hide the teasing smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “I do like that place.”

“Don’t know why, it’s dreadfully plain. But shall we go?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, ducking his head to press a kiss to Lance’s forehead. “Breakfast it is.”


	12. Keith/Lance - Dancer

Keith adjusted his cloak around his face as he followed Shiro into the tavern. The guards at the city’s entrance had recommended it with high praise – apparently the Seaside Songbird tavern was the place to be at night for a light-hearted and fun evening. Keith wasn’t so sure about the place. He preferred to be in quiet taverns, the less frequented the better. But he knew Shiro liked a little friendly conversation and a warm atmosphere, so off they went.

“Do you want to see about getting rooms for a few nights while I grab drinks?” Shiro asked, as he sent a cursory glance over the room. The tavern had a wide, open floor, with plenty of booths and tables already starting to fill up with patrons. A long bar at one end had three workers behind it, while one patrolled the tables, collecting dirty mugs and tankards. A fifth worker was setting up a stage in a brightly lit corner, where colourful ribbons and streamers introduced the name of the band assumed to be playing later that evening.

Keith nodded, and accepted a few gold coins form Shiro before weaving his way towards the bar. Two of the workers behind it were busy serving and taking orders, but a third was carrying around a register for the rooms and various order sheets to send back to the kitchen, so he waved to catch her attention.

“Sorry about the wait there,” she said, ducking over to meet him. She had short brown hair brushed away from her eyes, and blue eyes sitting behind a pair of glasses, simple in design. “How can I help you?”

“Looking for a room for the night,” he said.

“That I can do. Just the one room?”

He nodded.

“How many nights? Just one?”

“Several, if that’s alright.”

“Sure thing.” She scanned down her papers. “That’ll run you about six gold, for four nights.”

He passed them over without issue. She scooped them up and riffled around under the bar, drawing out a room key. He took it with a nod and disappeared back into the crowd.

Shiro had found a little table to himself and had been served two drinks before Keith got back. When Keith sat beside him, he nudged over one of the drinks. “Got a room?”

Keith handed over the key. Shiro was better at keeping stuff like that safe. “So what’s the plan?”

Shiro laughed. “Just relax, Keith. There is no plan. We’ve been travelling for weeks, wouldn’t it be nice to take some time off? We can check the merchant guilds for jobs later on, but for now, just rest. We have enough coin to get by.”

It wasn’t the coin Keith was bothered by. He liked to be on the move, liked to be constantly doing something. Relaxing made him restless. He wasn’t used to a soft life.

Sullen, he buried himself in his drink, and half ignored the conversation going on around him. A lot of people came up to chat with Shiro, which wasn’t surprising. There weren’t a lot of paladins in this area of the country, since their specific talents with divine energy weren’t often needed, so he presented quite an interesting figure. If nothing else, his inherent charisma was a good way to gather information without leaving the table.

By the time he was done, he’d apparently learned a lot. He relayed the most important bits to Keith, talking about the best place in town to find a job, where to avoid, what the general atmosphere of the town was like. This was a seaside town, with a large port and a crescent-shaped harbour some twenty miles long. Most of the ships that docked here were of the trade sort, bringing across grains, spices, and bolts of cloth from ports further along the coast. 

“Apparently, this is everyone’s favourite tavern in the city,” Shiro continued, when the business-like information was done with. His eyes were sparkling with ease as he relaxed back in his chair, drink almost empty. 

“Is that so,” Keith murmured.

Shiro nodded, uncaring about Keith’s brooding replies. “Apparently they have the best performances here.” He gestured towards the stage. “It looks like it’s going to be good.”

Keith grunted, and waved down a worker to get them both another drink. Where he grew up, entertainment was scarce. Why waste time on such frivolous things when he could be training or bettering his physical skills? Or at least that had been the mindset of his home. He wasn’t exactly sure how much he believed in that, since he knew it took a great amount of skill to master any talent, even the musically inclined ones. But he’d still never really developed a taste for it.

“Just relax,” Shiro insisted, laughing again as he took in Keith’s expression. “You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure. And even if you don’t, you can just order another drink.”

That was true. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, glad Shiro had chosen a table close to a wall. They’d been travelling together for long enough that Shiro knew all his habits and preferences. That included his wish to stay out of the spotlight.

After some time, when the tavern was full to capacity, the performances began. The girl who’d organised the room for him introduced herself as Veronica, and was the one who announced every performer.

Keith had to admit, the quality was quite good. A band appeared first; there was a standard array of instruments but one woman with a violin who was rather talented. They played music for all of the performers, which in itself was a performance. First there was a group of performers in elaborate blue silks, and then a wonderful singer who did a duet with the violinist. After that was a group of dancers with ribbons, who weaved silky shapes of colour in the air with far more skill than he thought possible.

When all that was done, the tables in the tavern were all pushed to the side, and the floor was filled with dancing. Patrons flooded the space, grinning and laughing and smiling. A joyful song built up from the stage as the music rose above the noise of the people. A tall, bashful looking man with dark hair offered his hand to Shiro, who took it with a surprised smile as they began to dance. 

In the middle of the throng of people were a few of the workers at the tavern. Keith could still see one behind the bar, but Veronica was dancing with a dark-skinned woman, and around her were people who looked so much like her that they had to be siblings. There was a younger girl with long, thick hair, and a boy with a grin as bright as his eyes. 

Keith’s eyes landed on him and couldn’t be drawn away. He’d never seen someone with such a beautiful face. He danced like he was born to, not a single movement wasted or clumsy. As he moved, his cheeks flushed from the exertion. He was stunning in his happiness.

A woman drifted past his table, offering her hand to dance, but Keith shook his head. He felt almost… flustered. He’d been so distracted by the dancer that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching. The woman didn’t seem put off by his refusal, and she found a partner at the next table quite easily. 

Unbidden, his eyes drifted back over the crowd, looking for the same blue-eyed boy. He was disappointed when he couldn’t find him. 

Then, out of nowhere, he appeared beside Keith’s table. He was even more beautiful up close. It took Keith a moment to realise he’d offered his hand, and he was talking. “Pardon?” Keith asked, confused.

The boy laughed. “I said, would you like to dance?”

Keith flushed, feeling thrown. “Okay?”

“Okay!” The boy scooped up his hand and pulled him from his seat, spinning them both onto the floor. “Let’s dance!”

“I don’t know how,” Keith said, raising his voice just a bit to be heard over the lively music. 

“You’ll get the hang of it,” the boy grinned. 

The energy on the tavern floor was far different than Keith expected. Bodies crushed in from every side, twirling and swaying and stepping in a strange cacophony of sound and movement. None of it matched, and none of it was in line, but it somehow worked. He felt out of place, but his dance partner seemed to know, and carried them both through the dance.

Keith fumbled with where to put his hands as the boy twirled him around. Eventually the boy just laughed, and put Keith’s hands where his own hands were – one clutching at Keith’s hip, the other on Keith’s shoulder. At first Keith didn’t know how hard to hold on, but dancing was a foreign feeling to him, and he needed to hold onto the boy to steady himself. His fingers dug into the softness of the boy’s hip, scrunching the fabric of his shirt, as he held tightly onto his shoulder. 

“There you go,” the boy praised, grinning again as they spun in time with everyone else. There seemed to be some rhythm to the dance now that Keith was participating in it, one that was largely controlled by the siblings in the centre of it all. “You’re a great dancer!”

Keith went red, overwhelmed and flustered. He couldn’t take his eyes off the boy in front of him, and soon enough, it was easy to fall into step with him. He was still a bit clumsy and unsteady, but it didn’t bother him as much. He thought he might have heard Shiro laughing at one point, but there were so many faces around him that any sign of him was quickly lost.

“What’s your name?” Keith asked.

“Lance.”

“I– I’m Keith.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Keith!” Lance declared, as he suddenly stretched their arms out, bringing their chests – and faces, Keith noted – much closer together. “Having fun?”

“More than expected,” Keith choked out.

“Great,” Lance smiled. Even as dancers around them passed around partners and found new people to dance with, Lance never let go of him. They spun and spun and spun, weaving out of the way of reaching hands. Keith found himself smiling without meaning too, just something small and light. He was out of breath before he knew it.

“You dance well,” he said, pressing just a bit closer to get his voice across the noise.

“A dancer is only as good as their partner,” Lance laughed, his hand squeezing Keith’s hip. “Thank you for dancing with me!”

Keith was sure it was meant to be him thanking Lance, but all he could do was smile, feeling happily hopeless.

What a night.


	13. Keith/Lance - Bakery

Lance was thoroughly exhausted. He groaned as he threw himself down onto the lounge, all of his muscles aching. Everyone in the city was working hard in preparation of the harvest festival, and that included the bakeries, like the one his family owned. Everyone pitched in, so long as they were physically able to carry out even the simplest of tasks.

He was helping out in the bakery twice as much as usual. There would be plenty of food sold that day, almost triple their usual fair, so there was lots to be done. Not to mention every business owed a tithe to the city, so there was a small portion of their wares that had be donated. Counting that in what they had to prepare for, then anyone would be surprised by the amount of work that had to be done.

Veronica, one of his sisters, popped her head into his room when she heard him enter. “Done for the day?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said around a yawn.

“Did you see your soldier today?” she teased.

He scowled at her, his cheeks abruptly flushing. “He’s not my soldier.”

“But you’ve certainly caught his eye, you know. Why else would he come back and visit every day?”

“Maybe he likes the pastries.”

“Uh huh.” Her grin was evident in her voice. “That’s surely why, little brother.”

“Stop teasing,” he complained. Veronica only laughed, and left him to his own devices. 

Truthfully, Keith wasn’t his soldier. He was a soldier, yes, but one that worked for the crown, as most did. The harvest festival always drew massive crowds to the city, so the crown always hired extra guards to come work shifts during festival hours. Keith was one of them. He’d been visiting the bakery for a few days now, and always paid Lance a compliment, one usually about the food.

But Lance wasn’t going to deny that he was an interesting person. Quite handsome, too. He liked Keith’s quiet intensity. The soldier would often linger in the store as Lance worked, watching him roll dough or fold pastry, as customers sometimes did. Lance appreciate his company. He wasn’t intrusive or too questioning, and seemed to content to just watch Lance work, which Lance liked. 

It was nice to have someone there who wasn’t judging what he was doing or asking a thousand questions about it. And Keith never stepped over boundaries, either. He was polite and respectful, and treated Lance like any other person. Some guards could have truly horrible attitudes, thinking they were above common workers because they wore the symbol of the crown. Keith wasn’t like that at all. He liked to listen to Lance’s chattering, and asked about the town and the bakery like he was genuinely interested. 

He was sweet, Lance thought. In a quiet, serious way. Perhaps with a little more time he’d show more of his personality.

As much as Veronica teased, Lance hoped she was right. He wouldn’t mind having Keith’s attention.


	14. Keith/Lance - Guards

All was quiet in the castle, but Lance was unsettled. Relief had evaded him all afternoon, and now, at night, so did sleep. He sat at his window, an ignored book slumped open in his lap, as he stared out at the royal gardens. The moon was a fair source of light, along with the faintly glowing lanterns sitting along every flowerbed. 

Usually, the sight was a comfort to him. He’d spent a lot of time playing in the garden, running between hedges and following around gardeners begging them to teach him their talents and falling asleep in patches of sunlight on impossibly soft grass. 

Tonight, however, something was off. Even as he gazed out at the gardens, his uneasiness never faded. If anything, it deepened, sinking into the bottom of his stomach like a heavy stone. His gaze returned to his book, but just like before, he couldn’t read more than a few lines before the words became hollow and meaningless. Restless, he returned his gaze out of the window.

And something caught his eye.

Frowning, he leaned closer to the glass, absentmindedly closing the book in his lap. It was hard to see in the low light, but he was sure he saw someone dart between the hedges. When he stared harder, he saw it again. There was a person out there. Not one, but several. Who was skulking through the gardens at this hour? And why weren’t they carrying a lantern, like all the exterior guards did?

Pushing away from his chair, he backed away from the window. Fear trickled down his back like cold water. Had someone invaded the castle grounds?

His bedroom door suddenly opened, making him jump. His eldest sister, Veronica, and his eldest brother, Marco. Both had harried looks on their faces, and seemed a mixture of surprised and unfazed by the fact that he was awake. Lance was the youngest of five, so his siblings were always protective of him. They knew he had an uncanny ability to sense danger, even if he didn’t fully understand why. It explained why he’d been troubled all day, though, and why he couldn’t sleep.

“Come,” Marco said, gesturing for him to leave the window. Lance did, setting down his book on his bed as he passed it. “You’re leaving the castle tonight.”

“Why?” Lance asked, eyes wide.

“It’s not safe.” Marco pulled Lance closer, and helped him into a dark cloak he’d had thrown over his arm. “You and Rachel are leaving.”

Rachel was his youngest sister, and the sibling closest to him in age. “Together?”

Marco’s lips flattened into a thin line. “No, you’ll have to go separately.” 

Lance understood that two targets were harder to hit than one, but it was still upsetting to be sent away from his family by himself, even if it was for his own good. He knew better than to complain, though. Even though he’d lived the life of the youngest, pampered prince, he knew when it was his turn to speak, and now wasn’t it. His older siblings were better trained to handle situations like this, and he had to trust them.

“Will you be alright?” he asked, worried.

Marco gave him a small smile. “Better once I know you and Rachel are safe.”

“Here,” Veronica said, handing him a small bag. “I packed you food and necessities. No clothes, you’ll have to get them on the way. But there’s enough money in there to last you a while.”

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“I’m going to go help Luis with Rachel,” Marco said, passing Lance off to Veronica. “Take him to the guards, alright?”

Veronica nodded, and together with Lance, they rushed down the hallway. “Our parents hired independent guards to take care of you,” she said, as they entered one of the smaller halls. “I trust them, Lance.”

“You know them?”

“Somewhat. I know they’ll do anything to protect you, which is why I agreed to letting you go alone with them. They’re good, people. Strong people.”

“Okay,” he nodded. If Veronica said they were trustworthy, then he believed her. “How do you know them?”

“Though Acxa.”

His eyebrows went up. “Oh.” He knew Veronica was… friends, sort of, with a woman with extraordinary physical abilities. She had a sketchy past, but was making up for it. Lance was sure there was more between them than friendship, or at least from Veronica’s side. But he knew that any affections she had for the woman wouldn’t cloud her judgement, so he didn’t push the issue. 

Waiting in the hall for them were two guards. One was a tall man with a prosthetic arm and a scar over the bridge of his nose. The other was somewhat shorter, wearing the same dark armour Acxa usually wore. He was the one who turned to greet them, offering to take Lance’s bag, which Veronica prompted for him to pass over.

“This is Keith and Shiro,” Veronica said, gesturing first to the armoured one, then the taller one. “They’re going to take you away somewhere safe.”

“Okay,” he said, hesitantly stepping away from Veronica. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

She nodded. “Better once I know you’re safe, Lance. This won’t be forever.” 

“I know,” he whispered, but he was still upset. His family meant everything to him, and he hated being apart from them. He’d go, but that didn’t meant he wouldn’t miss them.

“We should get going,” Shiro murmured.

Veronica nodded, and after putting a comforting hand on Lance’s shoulder, let him go. He inched closer to the soldiers and watched her leave, meeting her gaze with a weak smile when she looked over her shoulder.

A gentle hand touched his elbow. “This way, Prince Lance,” Keith said. He took Lance by the arm when it seemed like Lance’s feet wouldn’t carry him. “It’s like Princess Veronica said, we’ll keep you safe.”

Lance met his eyes. He was surprised to see that Keith’s eyes were a violet colour, which was rare to see on this side of the country. There was a fierceness to his eyes that was confronting, but not frightening. His gut didn’t clench and no uneasiness filtered through him, so he nodded. He’d trust them to keep him safe so that he could come home as soon as possible.

“Thank you,” he said.

Keith nodded, satisfied. “It’s our duty to the crown.”

“I know, but you didn’t have to go so far for me,” he whispered.

“The crown has been good to us,” Keith said, meeting his eyes again. “In return, I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”


	15. Keith/Lance - Plaguing

Whimpers stirred Keith from his thoughts. He’d been staring out at the dark for so long that his mind had gone fuzzy, and he had to shake his head to clear it. Becoming lost in the quietness of night was not unusual for him, but it wasn’t him who was making noise.

It took him a moment to realise the noise was coming from the body beside him. Lance was curled up beneath their bed sheets, his pillow scrunched up under his head. He didn’t often suffer from nightmares, and wasn’t the type of person who woke during the night regularly, either because of loud noises or just a general sense of unease. It seemed like whatever was plaguing him was not enough to startle him into wakefulness, even if it was clearly unpleasant.

“Lance,” Keith murmured, turning his gaze away from the window to rest a hand on Lance’s shoulder. He himself was sitting up in bed, the covers pooled in his lap. Since becoming close with Lance, close enough to love him, he’d starting staying by Lance’s side when he was restless. He used to leave the bed and disappear for a walk outside, even if it was the middle of the night, or sit down in the lounge room by himself. Now he stayed in the bed, sometimes reaching out to hold Lance’s hand, other times simply sitting there, staring out of the window.

It was less lonely that way.

He was glad that he hadn’t gone anywhere that night. He ran his fingers through Lance’s sleep-tangled hair, his brows furrowing with concern when Lance whimpered again. They shared the same nightmares, usually – of battles from their past, of losing one another, of being hurt or hurting someone else. The war was over, but it still haunted them. Keith had his sleep stolen, and Lance had his dreams taken. 

It was always hard to wake Lance when he was like this. His whimpers cut at Keith’s heart, and the way his face twisted with discomfort made Keith feel restless and useless. Keith slid down further under the covers and pulled Lance to him, wrapping his arms around the trembling body beside him. Lance hardly seemed to react to the comfort, and continued to shiver, his hands clenching and unclenching at random.

He hated feeling like he couldn’t do anything to make Lance feel better. He continued to run his fingers through Lance’s hair and pressed his lips against Lance’s forehead. It took a while, but eventually Lance woke with a gasp, his sleepy eyes flying open.

“You’re okay,” Keith whispered, holding him still as Lance’s entire body jerked. 

“What happened?” Lance croaked, confused, as he pressed his forehead to Keith’s collarbone. 

“Just a nightmare.”

“Did I wake you? Sorry.”

Keith shook his head. “No, I was already awake.”

“Are you alright?” Lance’s eyelashes flickered against the skin at Keith’s throat, so light he could only just feel them as Lance assumedly closed his eyes.

“Better now,” Keith said truthfully, as he kissed the top of Lance’s head, the only part he could reach. “Try and get some sleep, alright?”

“Okay.” Lance slipped an arm around his waist, holding on tightly. His fingers grasped the back of Keith’s shirt. Keith could feel Lance’s pulse at his throat, and noticed when its rabbiting beats eventually evened out. Lance had always found it easy to fall asleep, and even though he was unsettled, he eventually drifted back off. It wasn’t so easy for Keith.

Sleep continued to evade him, but as long as Lance was alright, then he was content.


	16. Lance/Shiro - Cat

“Catch that cat!”

Lance startled at the desperate cry, looking around wildly for the voice. A streak of white ran towards him, and stunned, he dropped the bag of groceries he’d been carrying in favour of catching the blur. A ball of fluff landed in his arms, seeming as surprised as Lance did to find itself in this situation. A white cat with clear amber eyes stared up at him, its tail twitching.

“Oh god, thank you,” came the same flustered voice as before. Following in the wake of the cat was a flustered man, a pair of keys clutched in his hand. He had a shock of white hair, and a prominent scar over his nose. “She just ran out between my legs when I opened the door.”

“It’s alright,” Lance said, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. The man in front of him was painfully handsome, and painfully handsome men made any sense of social etiquette melt from Lance’s mind.

“I didn’t realise she was so fast,” the man continued, looking thoroughly disconcerted. “Or that she was so determined to get out of the house.”

Confused, Lance glanced down at the cat again. He realised he recognised this cat, and his eyes widened. “Isn’t this Juniberry?”

“It is,” the man said, surprised. “You know Allura?”

“Yeah, I live just down the road. Isn’t she away visiting her dad at the moment?”

“She is, she asked me to take care of her house. And the cat.” The man paused for moment, then bent and began to scoop up Lance’s dropped groceries. “Sorry for this.”

“It’s alright,” Lance said again, calmer this time. “Juniberry just gets excited when the front door is opened.”

The man’s eyebrows went up. “You know her well?”

“Sort of. I’ve visited Allura a few times,” he said. “I’m Lance, by the way.”

“Oh! Allura said to find you if Juniberry got out.” The man’s cheeks flushed. “She said you could help…?”

Lance laughed. That was just the sort of thing Allura would do without informing him. “When she gets out, Juniberry comes to visit my cat. She never really goes anywhere else, at least from what Allura or I could tell. She’s very single minded.” 

The man gave him a small smile. When all of Lance’s groceries had been securely tucked away back into the bag, he stood, and offered his hand. “I’m Shiro, by the way.”

Lance juggled the fluffy cat around to reach out for Shiro’s hand. “Lance, but you know that already.”

Shiro laughed quietly. He had quite a sweet laugh.

“If you carry a little cat treat in with you, Juniberry won’t run,” Lance said, as he swapped Shiro the cat for his groceries. “Allura has a stash of them on the countertop.”

“Really? Thank you. Honestly, I didn’t think it would be so hard to take care of her.” He cuddled Juniberry closer, smiling to himself.

Lance went bright red. “If you need anything, just ask.”


	17. Lance/Shiro - Cloak

“Thank you,” Shiro said to the shopkeeper, as he passed over a few silver coins. She nodded as she swiped up the money and handed him a fur-lined cloak. He’d had it commissioned over the last few days since he could sense snow coming on the horizon. The cloak was a deep blue colour, and the fur it was lined with was a mottled white and grey. It was quite soft in his hands, and quite thick, too. Warm. Perfect for the approaching weather.

After ducking out of the store, he exited out onto the street, and began to make his way back towards the tavern down the road. Night was falling, and with it, cold was descending on the small town. Frost crunched under his boots where it had gathered on withering blades of grass and brown weeds. Someone had come along and lit the lanterns hanging from horizontal posts above every building’s corner, lighting his way with faint orange flickers. At this time of night, there weren’t many people out and about. The minute the sun disappeared, the cold crept back in like a pack of wolves, hungry and biting.

The tavern he was staying at wasn’t the best one in town, but it was decently clean, and the food was nice. The most important thing was that it was inconspicuous, and no one really asked questions when a scarred up soldier-type like him walked in with a pretty little thing like Lance.

And Lance really was pretty, though Shiro was reluctant to admit it. He’d known Lance for a while now, and had come to the conclusion that denying his affection for the man was impossible. Lance was loud and noisy and confident, and he had a heart with room enough to fit everyone inside. That wasn’t to say he couldn’t hold a grudge, because he could in the most childish sense of the word, but he was forgiving and loving. Shiro knew that nothing meant more to him than his family and their happiness, and that he’d put them above himself without a moment of hesitation.

It was perhaps the reason Shiro was so charmed by him. He knew little about his parents, and had largely been raised by the army. He had a found family – he was close with a powerful magic user, a woman named Allura, and he’d taken one of the younger soldiers, a boy named Keith, under his wing for a while. But Lance’s effervescent love for his family was intoxicating. Shiro had never met any of them, but he felt like he knew them.

Lance was waiting in their room back at the tavern. Shiro stopped by the bar before heading up the stairs to order them some food, which would take a little time to prepare because the arrival of night also brought people looking to be warmed by alcohol, so it was busy.

“You’re back,” Lance said, when Shiro opened the door. He was bundled up on the bed, using the covers as well as the blankets they travelled with to cocoon himself. He was from the coast, and very unused to such cold temperatures. He’d never seen snow before they travelled through some a week or so ago.

“Sorry for taking so long,” Shiro said, as he shut the door behind himself. “I ordered food for us on the way up, it should be here soon.”

“Thanks,” Lance whispered, looking miserable. He glanced at the cloak in Shiro’s arms. “What’s that?”

Shiro unravelled the cloak and held it up with two hands. “I had this made for you,” he explained, “since you’re so affected by the cold. Hopefully this will help.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “For me?”

Suddenly embarrassed, Shiro hurriedly passed the cloak over, letting it settle across Lance’s lap. “We’re going to be travelling together for a while more, so…”

Lance gave him a little smile, his cheeks faintly going red. It was the first hint of colour he’d had in a while. He ran his fingers over the fur on the cloak and lifted it to his face, sighing. “It’s so warm,” he murmured. “Thank you, Shiro.”

Shiro rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re welcome.”


	18. Lance/Shiro - Timeless

Not many expected Shiro to be the type of person who was easily embarrassed, but Lance knew better.

To be fair, at first, he hadn’t expected it either. Looking at Shiro from the outside didn’t immediately make one think that he could fluster and blush at sweet, affectionate gestures. He looked like a strong-willed, sort of distant person who wasn’t extremely affectionate by nature. His scars gave him a bit of a rough appearance, though he was very clean-cut and well-trimmed. There was nothing rough about him.

But he was quite soft. More so in the privacy of their shared apartment, but often in the company of their friends and loved ones. He wasn’t the biggest fan of public displays of affection, but he wasn’t against them either. For the most past, he was a cautiously private man. Not as exuberant as Lance in his attitude and affection, but not withdrawn or uncomfortable. 

Lance liked it when Shiro got bashful and flustered. He’d shrink into his shoulders and the tips of his ears would go pink. Sometimes if Lance’s fingers caught a ticklish spot on him, like the spaces in between his lower ribs or the crook of his elbow (not the prosthetic one), then he’d give this short, surprised giggle and jerk away from him. Other times, when Lance would absentmindedly run his fingers through Shiro’s hair or down his arm or across his back, he’d melt just like a contended cat, making little groans and sighs without realising.

In a word, it was sweet. Lance loved that side of him. When they walked together, Shiro would often reach for his hand, or put his palm against the small of Lance’s back to guide him. Shiro would always sit close enough to him that their knees or thighs would touch. If they went out to eat, Shiro always offered him a bit of his meal to try. He was caring and considerate without trying, and Lance felt utterly pampered by him. Being with Shiro filled him with a content in a way he was sure he’d feel from no other.

And, of course, he was sure to return to the favour. He was a naturally affectionate person, and he thrived on physical content. He loved leaning against Shiro’s side when they walked or tucking his hand into Shiro’s elbow or slouching over his shoulders when Shiro was sitting and Lance was able to come up behind him. There wasn’t anything quite like being reminded of their size difference, since it made things much more fun. Lance loved it when Shiro rested his chin on his head, or when he was able to stare up at Shiro.

He felt confident and content in his relationship with Shiro. It was something he’d never felt before, not even with previous partners he’d cared a great deal about. Being with Shiro felt… timeless. Like it could go on forever and he’d never become bored or lonely.

Secretly, he hoped it would last forever.


	19. Hunk/Lance - Pearl

Hunk was surprisingly good with delicate things. He knew he was a bigger guy, and his hands weren’t the smallest, but he was good at making things, and at fixing them. His father had taught him how to fix cars when he was a kid and his mother and aunties had taught him the delicacies of cooking a perfectly flavoured meal, and from that he’d developed a fascination for engineering, which was what he’d pursued at university.

But aside from that, it also made him good at fixing and even making jewellery. He’d discovered that when he’d helped untangle a few delicate chains his mother had left carelessly in her jewellery box. Since then, everyone in his family had come to him with their jewellery woes. He sort of never gave it a second thought, really. It was just something he could do, something everyone in his family knew he could do. And since they asked him things like, “Do you know how to resize a ring?” and “Can you reattach this little bit on my earring, please?” he taught himself how to do it.

Of course, he wasn’t the type to ever say no to his family. It felt like something someone would do, if they had the capability. When he was older, he realised it wasn’t that common of a skill. He didn’t really know anyone else who could fix jewellery like he could. He could fix a lot of things, to be fair.

When his boyfriend, Lance, found out about it, he was quite surprised. He and Lance had grown up together, but it wasn’t something Lance found out about until Hunk was pretty good at it. Like most people, Lance hadn’t expected Hunk to have a skill as delicate as that. It wasn’t like he didn’t know Hunk was good with his hands – because he knew Hunk better than anyone, really – but it was just a surprising thing, he supposed.

For the most part, it was something that sort of flittered in and out of his memory based on how relevant it was for any given situation. 

Perhaps the most important time it came in handy was when Lance needed it.

They’d been dating for a while then, though it felt like much longer. He’d loved Lance since he was a kid, but it was only when they’d gotten older that those feelings became romantic. It felt natural, to him. Easy in the best way. He was rather glad that his feelings on the matter were mutual. 

Lance had a bracelet. It had belonged to his great grandmother, who had passed it down to her son so that he could give it to his wife, who then did the same thing. Lance’s mother had given it to her youngest son – Lance. It didn’t seem like Lance was going to take a wife (at least, Hunk hoped not), but Lance had talked about giving it to any child he had, just to pass on the tradition. It was quite a pretty bracelet. A delicate gold chain was decorate with five milky-white pearls, evenly spaced long the chain itself. It was beautiful.

But delicate things were easily breakable.

Hunk could tell that something had upset his boyfriend. He was very attuned to Lance’s moods, and could read him better than he could read himself. Getting the information out of him was difficult, but Hunk was good enough at plying answers from Lance. He knew how to handle his moods just in the same way Lance could handle him.

“The bracelet is broken,” Lance eventually said, standing from where they were relaxing on the sofa to get the bracelet. 

“The pearl one?”

Lance nodded, looking miserable. He held the bracelet with careful hands, seeming like he could hardly stand to look at it. 

“How’d it break?” Hunk asked, concerned. He knew how much the bracelet meant to Lance. Even if he couldn’t give it to a spouse like his family members that had come before him (because if he did marry Hunk, which Hunk hoped would happen one day, it wasn’t exactly his style), it was still an important item for him. It represented a connection to his family from the past, and any family he would have in the future. 

“The chain snapped here,” Lance said, showing Hunk the bracelet nestled in his palm. The chain had broken between the clasp and the first pearl. “Here, see?”

Hunk nodded. “May I?” He offered his hand, and Lance slipped him the little bracelet. It looked even smaller in his large palm. He took a moment to squint at the broken connection, his mind poking and prodding at it like a puzzle. Eventually he looked up at Lance, who was worrying his hands together, looking more and more upset by the moment. “I can fix it, if you want.”

Lance’s eyes widened, like he’d forgotten Hunk had the skill. “Really?” he asked, voice small.

Hunk gave him a smile. “Yeah. Might take me a bit, but it’s definitely fixable.”

“So it’s not broken forever?”

“Nope.”

Lance gave him a big, relieved grin. He threw himself forwards to wrap his arms around Hunk’s shoulders, pressing their cheeks together. “Thank you so much, Hunk!”

Hunk laughed, and patted his back. “Of course, Lance. Don’t be sad anymore, okay? I can fix it.”

Lance pressed his lips to his cheeks. “You’re the best.”


	20. Keith/Lance - Fish

Lance waded through the relatively shallow water of the lagoon, his tail beating slowly. A wide channel connected the lagoon to the sea, so he had plenty of room to swim up into it without worrying about a retreating tide stranding him. The water was clear and cool here, enough so that he could see the sandy bottom of the lagoon with ease. Algae-covered rocks and weedy plants scattered the bottom, some so tall he had to brush aside their leaves as he swam past.

He could see a pair of human legs in the water ahead, closer to the banks. A school of silver-scaled fish were swimming in circles around the human’s knees, their fins flickering in the sunlight. As he watched, the human thrust a spear into the water, one with a serrated spearhead fashioned on the end of the staff. Unfortunately for him, the fish were faster, and they scattered out of the way before the spear could pierce them.

The human let out a frustrated huff loud enough for Lance to hear underwater. “Are you going to help or not, Lance?”

Lance snickered, unable to help himself. He swam forwards, his palms outstretched to bat the fish back towards the human when they tried to swim past him. They were more scared of him than the human, since he was a natural predator to them with a much, much higher catch rate than humans had. He wasn’t surprised they swam away from him.

The spear pierced down through the water’s surface again, once more missing its mark. Lance laughed again. His poor human companion just wasn’t skilled at this sort of thing. He didn’t have a powerful tail for moving through the water, or gills that would let him breathe beneath the surface, or claws perfect for snagging fish right between their scales. Humans weren’t very dexterous or flexible creatures.

And yet, he still liked this one.

With one fast flash of his arm, he caught one of the fish streaming past him. It thrashed around but quickly stilled as he dug his nails in. With it in hand, he swam towards the human, circling him like the fish had done. “I caught one for you,” he crooned, still underwater.

“Uh huh. Hand it over, then.”

Lance popped up above the surface, shaking water out of his hair. He held out the fish with a broad grin.

“Show off,” Keith said, snatching up the fish.

Lance just grinned wider. He couldn’t talk out of the water; he’d learned that the hard way. The air carried his voice differently, made humans enthralled to him, completely at his mercy. Humans had a tendency to walk straight into the ocean, regardless of the fact that it lead to certain drowning, in order to find the mer who had spoken to them. And Lance didn’t want that to happen to Keith.

Though having Keith completely dedicated to him did have a certain charm. Of course, it would be all the better if it was willing.

After a moment, Keith’s frustration faded, and he stuck his spear in the ground so that he could use both hands to put the fish in the bag around his waist. “You’re so fast,” he said, his voice a strange mix of exasperated and impressed. “Why do I even bother?”

Lance could do little more than smile. When he spoke underwater, Keith could hear his voice, but apparently it was muffled. And, for the most part, Keith could only hold his breath for a few minutes at most – hardly enough for a proper conversation, even a one-sided one, since Keith couldn’t open his mouth underwater. Communicating was a challenge for them, but Lance didn’t really mind. Keith seemed to appreciate the quiet company, and being forced to stay silent gave Lance the chance to grow in a way he hadn’t expected.

It was funny how much could be said without saying a single word.

“Well?” Keith raised an amused eyebrow. “One fish isn’t enough for us, and I clearly can’t catch them. Are we going to eat today or not?”

Lance had to duck underwater to muffle his laughter. Oh, what a strange human indeed.


	21. Keith/Lance - Wolf

A strange wind rustling the leaves of the forest made Lance lift his head. He was far from civilisation, away from humans and hunters and mages alike. It was dangerous when others were around, so he kept to himself, to his forest and his lagoons and the packs of wild wolves running to and from neighbouring mountains. 

Briefly, his mind flashed to memories from long ago, ones he’d prefer not to remember. When he was still only the size of an average wolf, a mage had made a contract with him. Like most fey creatures, magic users could connect their energies to form a bond, one that allowed them to combine strengths and abilities. He was young, then. He’d thought it was for the best, that he could get stronger with a mage by his side.

That was how it was meant to be.

But that wasn’t what happened.

He was naïve, and couldn’t tell a good mage from a bad one. There were always grey areas, but there was no doubt with the man he’d made a contract with. Lance had been drained of energy, and forced into combat when he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t skilled enough to take on the enemies his mage had decided to take on, and he wasn’t the type of fey who could do what his mage had wanted. He was a wolf-shifter – good at stealth, good at fast melee attacks, good at crossing distances swiftly. 

Not good at taking damage like a shield, or slaughtering enemies covered in thick armour.

In the end, he’d had to get away. Fey familiars couldn’t die, exactly… but any death-striking blow would send him to the fey dimension, where he’d hover in a state of semi-consciousness until his mage decided to summon him again. When a fey wasn’t in a contract, they could move in and out of the fey realm at ease; it was usually a comfort to them, a space to rest for as long as they needed. But the realm had become a jail to him, one where he was banished to when his mage decided he was no longer useful or worth the energy.

Breaking a contract was impossible. Only incredibly powerful mages could do it, and at the time, Lance hadn’t known any. He’d suffered for years, enduring forced obedience and extended trips into the fey realm. It was horrible.

But luck had found him. His mage wasn’t good at making friends, and many other magic users disapproved of his battling style. Eventually word had gotten to a very powerful magic user, a woman named Allura, who’d set about freeing him. 

Severing the contract had been traumatic and painful for him, and he’d lashed out blindly for days, unable to make sense of the world. Allura had been patient with him, afterwards. Had healed him, had worked to earn his trust. She already had a familiar – several, actually; a sign of a powerful magic user – so she couldn’t take him on, but she’d brought him to this forest, provided him with a safe place to rest.

Years had passed since then. He’d grown in many ways; he was now almost fully sized, standing several heads above a tall human, and he was no longer so naïve or trusting. He hadn’t seen a human in a long time. Decades, maybe. Allura came to visit from time to time, and that was enough for him.

The wind in the trees worried him, though. It smelt faintly like magic, and that made his fur stand on end. He spent most of his time in his wolf form these days, since he was better defended when he was that way. Claws and fangs did much more than blunt human nails and teeth, after all.

Lifting his head, he turned his nose up into the air, trying to catch a scent. There was a road that passed through the forest that was often travelled, but it was a little ways away from him. Most humans didn’t come towards the mountain, where he lived. The temperature could drop below freezing in a night, and the terrain was rocky and uneven. Humans stuck to their paths and roads.

Whatever he could smell hadn’t done that. It took a few moments, but he sensed others approaching, and it made him weary. The entire forest was on edge, like it was holding its breath. He stood and shook out his fur, venturing away from his den. The edge of dusk was falling over the trees, turning the world from an orange to dark blue, one that helped his dark fur blend into the shadows. 

Even if he didn’t want a confrontation, his curiosity got the better of him, and he headed towards the strange scents. He’d sort of… taken on a protector role in the forest here. Other smaller, younger fey and normal animals had been wary of him as he’d grown larger, but he wasn’t a predator of them, and when he’d gained his confidence back he’d started defending them from poachers and hunters.

What he found did nothing to lessen his unease. The scents muddled together and formed something unfamiliar and foreign as he crept into a clearing. It was a little ways away from the road, and as he stood between the trees, it remained empty for a moment. He kept his ears pricked up as he listened to the noises coming. There was crashing through the trees, and shouts, and the strange, whooshing sound of magic being released.

The assailants appeared. First it was just one human man, red streaks of fire magic swirling around his hands. Lance couldn’t help but flinch at the sight of him, recognising him as a magic user. Seconds later, a pack of other humans burst through the trees behind the mage, crossbows raised. They were wearing the standard black clothes of poachers, with a fist insignia branded into the side of their necks. They were not unfamiliar. Lance had seen this particular group of poachers come near the forest hundreds of times.

It was strange to see them hunting a magic user.

As he watched, one of the poachers loosed a crossbow bolt. It whizzed through the air and sunk into the shoulder of the magic user, making him grunt with pain. He twisted around and thrust out his arm, sending a shockwave of fire arching out ahead of him. The poachers leapt back, shouting.

Lance lowered his head, a low growl building in his throat. Fire wasn’t good for the forest, but it didn’t seem to be burning anything, so he disregarded the mage for now. The poachers were the real trouble. He’d witnessed their cruelties: a few years ago they’d come in and disseminated a pack of wild wolves so they could steal the males, and if Lance hadn’t intervened, all of the wolves would’ve been lost.

He hadn’t forgiven them for that, or for anything else they’d done. He never would.

His growl broke through the haze of the fight. Heads whipped towards him, but their gaze didn’t frighten him like it used to. He stepped into the light of the clearing, out of the shadows, his teeth bared. He was several feet taller than the tallest human, even with his head lowered. 

A poacher swore. “Shoot it!”

Snarling, Lance lunged forwards, his paws tearing through the ground beneath him. The first poacher was easy to bat aside. A single swipe of his paw did the job. 

A crossbow bolt sunk into his flank, but the shaft was too small to pierce deeply into his flesh. He snarled and twisted around, letting out an angry howl. The air shook with his voice. He ducked as another bolt jolted into his leg, and swung around to snap his teeth at the poacher. He caught the human’s arm in his jaws and there was a sickening crunch as the bone shattered. The man screamed, and Lance tossed him away, uncaring.

There was a rush of flames behind him, accompanied by the thick scent of magic. He turned his head and saw the mage holding out his hands, creating a wall of fire that separated Lance from the poachers. The flurry of crossbow bolts that had been aimed for his head burned away to nothing.

Why was the mage protecting him?

He didn’t have much time to think about it before the poachers broke through the fire. Angered, Lance let out another snarl, and darted forwards. The poachers were no match for his claws, and their crossbows weren’t equipped to take on someone of his size. Lance was lucky they had bad aim – the only arrows that hit him didn’t get any vital parts, and were easily shaken loose.

After several exhausting moments, the poachers turned to flee. Several were burned and scorched. Several remained on the ground, bleeding out of open wounds.

The mage seemed surprised that he’d lived. He watched Lance with a strange look in his eyes – wary, but not afraid. He collapsed onto the ground when the poachers shouts faded, embers slowly fading from his hands. Lance stared at him, unsure what to do.

In the end, he shifted back into his human form. The process was uncomfortable, but he managed.

“Why did you help me?” he asked, when his bones had settled and he’d cleared his throat.

“You would have been hurt,” the human said, confused, “and you didn’t deserve that.”

Lance gave him a confused look back. They were at an impasse, staring at one another across the clearing.

Perhaps this mage would be different.


	22. Keith/Lance - Ajar

Keith was tired. It had been a long, long week away from home for him, and he was looking forwards to sleeping in his own, familiar bed again. Of course, the hotels Allura put them up in were always nice, and it wasn’t like sleeping on the flight had been terrible, but there was nothing as good as one’s own bed after being away.

He didn’t often go on business trips. Usually that was left up to Shiro, or he accompanied Shiro and other higher ranked employees of the company. He wasn’t the best at talking – it wasn’t like he was terrible at holding a conversation, but Shiro, for example, was much better at it. Keith could be a little impatient sometimes and a lot of the time, business deals required patience. 

However, Shiro had been busy doing something else, so Keith was the next best choice available. He didn’t really want to be away from Lance for that long, but work was work, and sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

Being home was a welcome treat. It was pretty late in the evening. Lance didn’t answer the door when Keith let himself in, but he was probably asleep, so Keith didn’t worry for the moment. The thing he’d missed most about home was Lance. They’d been together for several years now, and their little house had become his favourite place to be. Most people didn’t assume Keith was clingy, and he wasn’t, but he had missed Lance a lot. There was a certain closeness one couldn’t get through the phone that he’d been without, and he was looking forwards to that changing. He was always like this after a business trip, no matter how many days he was away for.

After locking the front door again and setting aside his suitcase, Keith headed upstairs to the bedroom. The door was ajar, so he peeked in, and smiled when he said Lance spread out across their bed. He was fast asleep, one hand tucked under Keith’s pillow to yank it close. Just looking at him made Keith feel at ease, like a tension inside of him he hadn’t noticed had unravelled itself.

Uncaring that he was still dressed with his shoes on, he very carefully laid down beside Lance, and smile when Lance automatically cuddled into his arms. Even in sleep he stayed by Keith. He’d missed this so much.


	23. Keith/Lance - More

Standing in a hidden alcove, Keith watched the white-haired prince from across the courtyard. There had been a lot of political unrest in the Altean kingdom recently, some he wasn’t privy to, some he was. Altea was moving towards allying themselves with the Blade of Marmora, a rebel faction of the Galra, who were their sworn enemies, to put it simply. A lot of people agreed with the movement, but a lot didn’t.

Keith was one of the former. As a member of the Blade, he rejected the cruel practicalities the Galra imposed. Their empire was built on the oppression and suppression of other cultures and peoples, and citizens like him – half-breeds; those who did not have full Galra blood – were treated harshly and often ostracised to the outskirts of society.

In any case, Altea had invited members of the Blade to their royal palace. Some were here for diplomatic purposes, but others, like Keith, were here for demonstrative ones. A handful of their better fighters had been assimilated into the guard ranks at the palace as a sign of unification between the two races. They worked together to protect the palace while delegations happened.

Specifically, Keith had been assigned to guard the youngest child of the royal couple, Prince Lance. They’d spoken a few times, just so Lance was comfortable with having a Galra in his guard. He wasn’t exactly what Keith expected. Keith had known that Lance was energetic and open-minded before he met him – his personality preceded him.

But there was more to him than that, if one looked long enough. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t energetic and open-minded, because he was. There was just… more to him. Even if they hadn’t spoken much, Keith had had plenty of time to watch over Lance. The prince had his quiet moments to him, and he was surprisingly affectionate with almost everyone around him. He wasn’t afraid to shake hands with strangers, even if they were Galra, and he always did so with a welcoming smile. He treated his attendants politely and never demanded anything.

It was refreshing, in some ways, to see a person so at ease in the world. Lance could be serious when he needed to be, and many thigs did concern him, but he smiled freely, and wasn’t afraid to open himself to others. He drew Keith to him in a way no one else ever had before.

Point was, Keith found himself more impressed by Lance that he thought he might be. Not only was the prince charming and caring, but he was quite beautiful. Keith enjoyed his company and looked forwards to working for him. It seemed like the prince liked him, too. Even as Keith thought to himself, Lance’s eyes glanced around the courtyard for him, his gaze only softening once Keith had stepped out of the shadows for Lance to see. The small smile Lance sent him was warm and pink-cheeked.

Keith couldn’t help but smile back, just a little.


	24. Keith/Lance - Sailing

Night had brought a cool breeze. Lance turned his face towards the wind, his eyes closed. Hair ruffled across his forehead but he made no move to brush the wayward strands aside. It was a quiet night. A warm one, too. The cool breeze was very welcome after a balmy day of sailing in the late spring sun.

“See anything interesting up there?”

The voice came from behind him. He opened his eyes and glanced down the short ladder leading to the main deck of the ship and gave the figure watching him a small smile. “Nothing much. It’s too dark to see well.”

Keith made a small noise of agreement. He climbed up the ladder and stood beside Lance next to the railing, resting against his elbows. It was his turn to take over a shift on watch duty for the night, as his arrival on deck meant Lance was free to go sleep, but Lance wasn’t quite tired enough yet. He welcomed the cool breeze against his somewhat sweat-damp skin. It would be hot in his room and he liked it out here better, where he could see the ocean.

“Not tired yet?” Keith asked.

Lance shook his head.

Keith watched him for a moment. “Feeling okay?”

“Just claustrophobic, I guess,” Lance answered. He was from a portside town, but they didn’t have a harbour there. The only boats around were fishing vessels and small skiffs people rowed out towards off-shore sandbanks that were popular spots for picnics, fishing, and relaxing. This was his first time on a messenger ship like this one. It was large and populated by trained crew. Cabins were small, and there was no room for privacy. Even if they travelled faster than a cargo ship, journeys across the sea could still take weeks.

He was excited to see the world beyond his town, but this way of travel was exhausting. He loved the sea, but this wasn’t his preferred way of experiencing what it had to offer.

Keith made an understanding noise. He’d sailed on larger vessels much more than Lance had. “Yeah, it can get that way sometimes.” He paused. “But it’s not all bad, is it?”

Lance laughed. “No, it’s not all bad,” he agreed. 

Aside from cramped living spaces, travelling by ship could be exciting. His heart always picked up when the sails caught a steady wind, and he loved seeing pods of wild whales and dolphins streaming past. Sailing also meant he got to meet new people, like Keith. He’d been hesitant to take up the Captain’s offer of passage on the vessel when it had first been offered to him in the portside town, but being closer to Keith had definitely factored into his decision to accept. He’d met Keith when they’d made an emergency stop at Lance’s town during a storm. He’d wanted to know more about Keith, and he’d wanted to explore the world. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to do both.

And as much as it was an unusual and somewhat uncomfortable experience for him, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. The opposite, actually. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Keith nudged him with his elbow. “You should go get some rest,” he said, “it’ll be a long day of sailing again tomorrow.”

Lance sighed. “Yes, like today, and the day before.”

“That’s sailing for you.”

“At least you’re here to make it interesting.”

Keith snorted, looking amused.

Lance gave him a smile before heading down to the cabins. He savoured the breeze as he went. Being on the sea was freeing.


	25. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Bees

Lance was in the backyard when he heard the little chimes hanging on the front door ring. The house was charmed only to admit welcomed people, and the flood of warmth into his chest told him that it was his mates who had returned. A flutter of excitement went through him, one that made the thin, insect-like wings on his back twitch.

After a moment, a tall figured appeared at the back door, peering out at him. “Lance,” Shiro said, a smile spreading across his face, “there you are.”

Lance grinned back. “Welcome home,” he said. If he hadn’t been elbow-deep in a beehive, he would have gone straight into his mate’s arms. As it were, the bees required some attention, and so he’d been spending the morning tending to them. “Where’s Keith?”

“He’s here too,” Shiro said, gesturing back towards their house. “Having fun there?”

“Oh, definitely.” Lance was good at taking care of the bees. Most of his species were, to be honest. They were more in tuned with nature than most. 

After taking care of the bees, Lance withdrew his hands from the hive, and set about returning everything to its proper place. He was covered in honey, as expected, but a quick dunk of his arms into a nearby bucket of water, kept for that exact purpose, cleaned everything up. His species always had a sort of proficiency with one element or another, and for Lance, that was water. It certainly came in handy when he was cleaning.

“Did you get everything you needed?” Lance asked, as he wandered back towards the house. Shiro reached out for him and tucked him in close into his arms. Like always, the warlock smelt faintly of magic; a crackling undertone to his scent that only magic users carried. Even if Shiro looked like a normal human, he certainly wasn’t.

“Everything’s sorted,” Shiro said, smoothing his hand down Lance’s back. He laughed a little when Lance’s wings gave a little flutter, the metal of his wing guards clinking against Shiro’s metal hand. Like most of his species, his wings were powerful, but exceedingly delicate. Every curved edge was encased in an ultra-thin case of metal, overlapping about one inch into the wing’s surface on both sides. It kept them from folding or bending the wrong way, or tearing along the edges, an injury that was both incredibly painful and difficult to heal.

“I’m glad.”

Together, they headed back inside, where they found Keith in the kitchen slowly steeping tea in three cups. He looked significantly less unsettled than he had that morning, before he and Shiro had set out to stock up their medicine cabinet. As a wolf shifter, Keith often experienced terrible headaches and bouts of nightmare-driven insomnia close to certain moon phases. Most shifters used natural remedies to dispel their illnesses, but they’d run out. Lance was relieved to hear they’d been able to stock up on the medicine again.

“How are the bees?” Keith asked, glancing up at them. “I saw you out of the window.” 

“Chattering away, as usual,” Lance said, cheerful, as he accepted his cup of tea. “They gossip a lot, you know. Always humming about one thing or another.”

Keith gave him a small smile. The moon had been unkind to him recently, and there were evident lines of tension in his shoulders and face. “I wouldn’t know, actually,” he said. His voice was about as teasing as it could get when he was so obviously tired, but Lance grinned at him anyway, appreciating the effort. Only fey like him could understand nature in such a deeply comprehensible way; not even shifters like Keith, who could be considered a part of nature themselves, understood the other creatures they shared their forms with. At least not to the extent that fey did.

Shiro gestured for Keith to come closer, and snagged him around the waist. There was a small burst of white light as he pressed his lips to Keith’s temple, and Keith let out a small sigh. Shiro didn’t have much healing magic, but he’d been teaching himself some that he could use for them. He’d mastered a spell that could heal stings, like the ones Lance accidentally gave himself when he was working with thorny plants or irritated insects. His latest spell was one that could chase away headaches, which was perfect for Keith. 

“We should be getting another batch of honey tomorrow,” Lance said, as he nuzzled against Keith, the both of them now comfortably held by Shiro. “I can put it in your tea to help you sleep.”

“Thanks, Lance,” Keith sighed, smiling, as he sagged against him. Lance’s wings fluttered again, pleased.

“Why don’t you two go relax?” Shiro said, ushering them out of the kitchen. “I’ll make lunch.”


	26. Keith/Lance - Lantern

“Lance, don’t be out late!”

“I won’t,” Lance called back somewhat impatiently, watching the ground as his way was lit by beams of warm, yellowish light cast through the decorative slats of the lantern he carried. He could feel his mother’s disapproving stare on the back of his neck, but she wasn’t the type of parent to smother him, and always told him that he was free to make his own mistakes – that she would always help him fix them, but let him learn from them himself. Lance appreciated the trust she gave him.

Especially when he was going off to do something she wouldn’t particularly like. 

The forest surrounding their little farm was quite dark at night. He knew the trees well, and wasn’t particularly worried about tripping over or getting lost. He’d walked this path many times, and knew it almost as well as he knew the back of his hand. For the most part, no one really travelled through this thicket of trees, so he was confident that it was a private place. His mother knew he came here – she knew everything in that way mothers did – but she never stopped him.

It wasn’t like he did anything bad. Perhaps it was something his family would disapprove of, but that was only because they didn’t know the person he was meeting there well enough.

A few minutes of cautious walking saw him arriving in a relatively small clearing in the heart of the thicket. Fallen trunks formed moss-covered seats sunk so firmly into the ground that they were impossible to move. The trees here didn’t quite stretch over the clearing above his head, so there were patches of moonlight to help him see.

Like expected, Keith was already sitting on one of the logs waiting for him. He didn’t carry a lantern because he could see in the dark far better than Lance could. Keith was only half-human – he wasn’t quite sure of what the other half was – so he had better senses than Lance, and didn’t take nearly as much time as he did navigating through the dark trees.

“You’re late,” Keith said. If it were anyone else, Lance would have thought they were mad at him, but he could hear the undercurrent of worry in his voice. He knew Lance’s family was unsure of him, and was always concerned that Lance would decide he wasn’t worth it. Of course, that was something Lance would never do.

He was quite attached to Keith, after all.

They’d met by chance in the forest. Lance had been looking for seedlings he could plant in his family’s personal garden back on the farm; he’d been sick of taking care of nothing but crops and vegetables, and wanted wildflowers or interesting ferns or something like that to brighten up the garden. Instead of wildflowers, however, he’d found Keith. 

They couldn’t come from more different backgrounds. Lance’s home life was stable, and he’d grown up in a small but peaceful, homely town. There was a sense of cultural diversity where he lived because many people crossed a nearby sea to live on the coast there, and many people came from further inland to build farms in the naturally rich soil there.

The same couldn’t be said for Keith’s home. He lived beyond the forest that divided their two towns, more towards the mountain ridge than the sea. His town was full of other half-breeds like him, many more non-human than not. Half the town was strictly military, in the loosest sense of the word – they were trained to fight, trained to battle, trained to kill. That was the half Keith came from. The other half was more criminal, dealing in underworld trade and illegal substances. 

It was strange how separate their two worlds were. The forest was a decent barrier, since the farmers had no need to cross it, and neither did anyone from Keith’s town. The only settlements of worth on this side of the forest were towns like Lance’s and a dotting of harbours along the coastline. 

But in the end they’d met, and things between them had gone from cautiously hostile to friendly to… more. They met at least once a week in the little clearing, usually at night because that was the only time they could get away from their responsibilities. 

“Hello to you too,” Lance snorted, stepping over the log to sit on the side facing Keith. He balanced the lantern beside him and nudged his hood off his head. “Is that a bruise on your face?”

Keith winced, turning his eyes elsewhere.

Lance frowned at him. He leaned into Keith’s space, gently putting his fingertips to Keith’s cheek to turn his face back towards the light. A purple bruise was blossoming along his jawline. “What happened?” he whispered.

“Just training,” Keith whispered back, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into Lance’s touch. It was always just training. Lance knew it was a lie. Keith was starting to disagree more and more with his training, and the way his superiors stopped disagreements was to beat them out of him. 

“You can’t leave?”

Keith reached up to hold Lance’s hand against his face, sighing. This was a conversation they’d had before. Keith thought there was no other place for him, partially because he was a half-breed, and partially because of his socially constricted upbringing. He was used to violence and fighting. How would he cope in a slow, farming town?

But Lance couldn’t stand seeing him hurt. “I wish you’d leave,” he murmured.

“I know.” Keith turned and kissed Lance’s palm. “I will, one day. But not yet.”

Lance hesitated, remaining quiet until Keith glanced up to meet his eyes. There were little yellow reflections from the lantern in his violet irises. “Promise me?”

Keith didn’t say anything for a moment. Silence stretched between them, but then his eyes hardened, and he leaned in to press their foreheads together. “I promise,” he said.

Lance believed him.


	27. Keith/Lance - Surge

Keith’s home volcano finished its last eruption cycle several hundred years after Keith was born. The crater had been all he’d known, until then. He was comforted by the heat the volcano provided, by the flows of lava and plumes of ash that blanketed its rocky, blackened slopes. He was never sure of his purpose in the world – who he was born to, what the extent of his powers were, why the volcano was his home. However, the end of the volcano signalled a new phase in his life. 

When the last of its lava had drained away, and the surrounding land began to reclaim its slopes, he was forced to leave. As much as he understood the intrinsic value of nature, the encroaching grasses and flocks of wild birds gaining confidence to fly over the crater were of no interest to him. 

And so he set off in search of a new home. 

The world was very different to how it had been when he was young. Much of the land had been cleared away by mortal hands; trees chopped down, fields marked out by posts and fences, the coasts and seas charted out and mapped down on parchment. Keith spent some time observing mortals, learning their languages and their mannerisms.

He decided that they were very strange, vain creatures. Not many were inclined to help one another out of the goodness of their heart, and they were very driven by coin – most of them had no other option, lest they wanted to starve or freeze to death. 

But they could be interesting. Most humans worshipped figures they called gods, ones they couldn’t see but could sometimes apparently hear or understand. Their gods represented things they wanted in life – a bountiful harvest, beauty, knowledge, victory in war, even life and death. Many gods seemed to reside in aspects of nature, like the sea and the wind. One, he even found, lived in volcanoes, judging any nearby settlements or farms and casting the unworthy ones beneath an angry rush of lava. 

For a while he wondered if that was who he was. The gods rarely had names, but he had a name. Could he even be a god to the humans in the first place? He didn’t feel like one, and decided that he probably wasn’t.

Humans were only a distraction for so long before he grew restless and homesick. He’d spent so many centuries in the volcano that being in the mortal world was disjointing and unsettling. He was without companions, and without conversation, and despite being that way for all of his life, he suddenly found himself lonely. It didn’t help that humans couldn’t really see him. When he tried to communicate with them, he was little more than a whisper on the wind, or a strange shiver down their spines. Animals could see and interact with him, but it wasn’t the same as having a conversation with a human. Keith craved their company.

Lately, he’d found himself wandering the coastline. Many volcanoes were situated near the sea, where underwater earthquakes helped churn lava, push it to the surface. Many humans were by the sea, too. They had boats to carry them across the water, and they’d built harbours and docks where they could fish and trade wares and prepare for travel.

There were a lot of temples by the sea. A lot of humans worshipped gods in the ocean, and the god of storms. They built shrines out of pale sandstone and coral and driftwood to honour their patrons, and left gifts they found in the sea as offerings. He found their culture and their beliefs interesting. Humans who lived by the sea worshipped gods of water. The ones near the forest worshipped gods who could grow crops and make nature bloom in excellence. Ones beside the volcanoes worshipped someone a lot like him.

The humans he’d been watching lately worshipped gods of the sea. This town was largely sea-based, with a small harbour and a fish market. Most households had seaglass and seashells pressed into the wood above their doorframes. The shoreline was dotted with tiny castles made from sand that were rebuilt every day by children after the night tide had retreated. 

One specific human had unexpectedly caught Keith’s attention. He was young for a human, only about two decades old. His eyes were the colour of the sea, and his skin had been tanned a shade darker than its normal brown by the sun. He was an energetic human, one who regularly visited a small shrine further inland.

Perhaps what had attracted Keith to that area in the first place was the shrine. There was a mix of offerings left on its shelves – chunks of coral and a bowl full of small, imperfect pearls for sea gods, sprigs of flowers and dried twigs bundled together with twine for gods of the forest, and most importantly, a vial of black mountain ash and a carved piece of flint for volcanic gods. He was unused to seeing such offerings in an area like this, since mortals would have to travel a few days away to reach the closest volcano. It was beyond a deep river, one that protected this side of the coast from any overspills of lava.

It was at that shrine that Keith first saw the human. Even more interesting than the human’s interest in such a mismatched shine was the fact that he could see Keith.

Not at first, though. It took a while, and a lot of patience on Keith’s behalf. At first the human could only sense him. He couldn’t hear Keith’s voice, or see him. But he didn’t seem frightened. Instead he left more offerings, not just ones for the sea, but other things too; a freshly baked loaf of bread, a string of coloured beads for good luck, flowers he’d picked from his garden. They weren’t specific to any god, but things that anyone might like. Keith certainly liked them.

The day the human saw him, Keith hardly believed it. There was a large tree sitting behind the small shrine, one with thick roots protruding in a tangle from the ground, with a trunk so wide he couldn’t see around it from up close. He always sat on one of the higher roots as the human visited the small shrine. He’d been watching, as usual, when the human’s gaze had slid to the side, landing right on him and sticking.

It was the strangest thing. In a way, it had frightened him.

But by that time, Keith was very attached to the human. His desire for company completely overpowered his fear.

It took some time for things to settle between them. Keith had no experience socialising, and the human was rightfully intimidated by him. He was like a god, after all. But… there was something between them. A connection. 

He grew close to the human very fast. The human – Lance – was unlike any others Keith had seen. He was friendly and competitive, and once he was comfortable with Keith, he wasn’t afraid to assert his opinion. Lance made Keith feel riled up in the best way possible. It was like his true personality started to flourish when he began to talk to Lance regularly. 

There were some difficulties between them, of course. Their personalities turned out to be quite contrasting, and that could be difficult to navigate. Lance didn’t understand what or who Keith was, mostly because Keith didn’t either. He didn’t think he was a god, but he certainly wasn’t mortal. He’d lived for a long, long time, longer than Lance could comprehend.

But Lance never turned away from him. He seemed to see the loneliness simmering away inside of Keith, and struggled to understand how Keith had managed to wait for someone like him to appear for so long. Lance had a compassionate heart, and he tried to wedge Keith into it as much as he could.

It made him easy to love.

And that was perhaps the most difficult thing of all. Keith learned the hard way that loving things made it very painful to lose them. He’d never fully understood just how fragile humans were until his one died. It wasn’t a natural death, which he thought might have been somewhat less painful. Lance’s death was an accident. A drowning on the sea during a storm, when boats failed the humans sailing.

What god would allow such a thing? What god would sanction the deaths of their worshippers? Of Lance?

It took Keith a while to figure out that Lance had died. A day, at least. Lance didn’t come to the shrine to meet Keith like he always did. The trees were empty and quiet that day. Keith wanted to think that he’d had some sort of sense that Lance was in danger, but he hadn’t. He’d waited out the storm well into the next grey day before he realised something must be very wrong. Lance hadn’t gone that long without coming to see Keith in a long time. 

When he’d learned of Lance’s death, he couldn’t understand it. How could someone be so real and alive in his mind but be gone from the material plane? How could he have been there one day, and not the next? How could Keith still see him along the shoreline, bringing bread to the shrine to share, laughing when Keith had unintentionally said something that amused him?

He didn’t understand. People like him, whatever he was, didn’t die. He’d gone decades without eating and sleeping, had breathed volcanic ash into his lungs and veins, had sunk beneath torrents of lava and wrapped it around him like a blanket. He was not just a flicker of breath like a mortal. He wasn’t a god, whose life was determined by how many worshipped them, remembered them. What was he, if he could love a human as well as any other human, but feel pain for one’s death greater than that of any being, mortal or godly or otherwise?

Grief had twisted to anger inside him. Who was he angry at? The mortals who’d decided to sail on rough seas, who hadn’t had the medicine to save Lance? Or the gods who would cast a storm upon their devoted worshippers, who would drown them in the very sea they revered? 

In the end, he couldn’t be angry at humans. They grieved for Lance like he did. They felt pain for a lost life. Even in their selfishness, they felt things Keith still hadn’t grasped.

Instead Keith’s anger burned beneath the earth. Lava roared, twisting and carving through stone, erupting from cavernous openings in mountains. Black ash spewed into the sky for days. The coastline changed shape as lava ran and merged with the sea, turning black and creating steam too thick to see through. 

He destroyed the shrine where he first met Lance. He couldn’t look at it.

When his anger faded back to grief, he hated what he’d done. Lance had loved the world fiercely, had shared his love with Keith, and Keith had marred it. The volcano near Lance’s town was active and upset. It continued to pour lava into the sea. The humans didn’t understand. They thought a furious god was punishing them for something. No lives were stolen, but the forest and grasses surrounding the volcano were destroyed, and the shape of the land was changed.

Keith was changed, too. He needed Lance, but Lance was gone. Buried in the earth to rot.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

Perhaps there was some god or being out there looking out for Keith. Perhaps his devotion to Lance changed the laws of the world. Perhaps there was some magic to him he’d never unlocked until he’d loved Lance as ferociously as he had. Perhaps the world needed a new god, or a new one of him.

Lance returned. When Keith’s anger faded and the grief came back, he travelled to the place where the lava had met the sea, and he’d mourned. It had almost been like the lava was trying to reclaim him, flowing around his body, swallowing him inch by inch. He’d cried for the first time. When his tears sunk into the sea, Lance returned.

At first, he was only a reflection beneath the unsteady surface of the hissing, steaming water. He’d looked peaceful, like he was sleeping. Keith had panicked, clawing at the surface, holding back the lava. He’d thought he’d gone mad.

Until he’d felt Lance’s skin. It was like Lance had been born from the sea. Keith had wrapped his fingers around Lance’s wrist, pulled him up from beneath the waves. A surge of tidal water had washed over them as Lance woke, the water so powerful that the lava cooled and hardened within minutes. It took Lance several moments to gather himself.

But he remembered Keith, and he remembered dying. What came after that and before Keith pulled him free was lost, but that didn’t matter. Lance was back and Keith was never letting him go, not even for a single moment.

An eternity without him was the worst kind of pain he could think of.

For centuries to come, the humans in the town nearby, and soon all over the coast, told a story of an angered god. One that could control volcanoes, one that could turn the world to ash. When the god suffered a great pain – some humans said the loss of power, others said the loss of memory, but the correct ones said the loss of his love – only the sea could calm him. The world’s balancing hand returned his lost love to him, used water to calm fire, made a meeting of two energies that formed a stable ground to stand on. Any place along the coast where volcanic flows were cooled by the sea were said to be where the lovers, united by the seaside, had walked together hand-in-hand.

The stories weren’t entirely wrong.

Whatever Keith was, Lance became too. He lamented the loss of his mortal life, but mortal life was fleeting in the face of eternity. He had Keith with him to guide the way.

As much as Keith understood he had been born alone, he knew one thing for certain – if he ever died, he wouldn’t die the same way.


	28. Lance/Shiro - Flinch

Lance rarely woke up in the middle of the night. He wasn’t a particularly heavy sleeper, but he was used to sleeping with an eye mask on, and sometimes padded headphones, so that nothing disturbed him. He preferred to sleep through the night, since he felt more rested come morning that way. 

But that night, something woke him.

At first, he thought it was the storm outside. It had been a grey afternoon and a dark, rumbling evening. The rain had started an hour before he went to bed and hadn’t let up in the slightest by the time he fell asleep. He could usually sleep through a storm as long as there wasn’t any exceptionally loud wind, so he was confused to find himself awake. 

After a moment, he realised what had actually woken him. Shiro was sitting up in bed beside him, one leg out from beneath the covers like he was halfway through getting up. He was staring out of the window, and as a clap of thunder rumbled outside, a flinch went through his tense shoulders. 

Lance knew that Shiro still sometimes struggled with things. His thoughts, mostly. If he was having a good day, then a car backfiring or a banging door or anything that startled him wouldn’t send his mind reeling. Bad days, however, were the opposite. Sometimes he’d find Shiro staring off into the distance, so absorbed in his thoughts that he was completely blind and deaf to the world around him. Other times a barking dog or neighbour’s house alarm going off would make every part of him jump, and he’d shrink into himself, withdrawing into silence.

It was always worse when he was woken from sleep, when his thoughts were still slow and half-formed. Lance had seen him startled awake enough times to know how to handle him.

“Shiro?” Lance whispered pushing himself upright. “You okay?”

There was no verbal reply, but Shiro’s shoulders tensed again. Lance took that as a good thing, because it was better than dead silence. He put a gentle hand on Shiro’s shoulder and guided him back down onto the pillows. It took a bit of tugging and insisting, but eventually Shiro was back down, his gaze still elsewhere.

Lance didn’t do anything but hold on. Shiro kept his face turned into Lance’s neck, and after a few moments, he reached a hand over to rest it against Lance’s waist. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Sometimes being held was all Shiro needed and Lance was more than happy to do that for him.

After a few moments, Shiro stopped flinching at the noises outside, and tension began to ease out of him. He sighed, and pressed closer to Lance. He was going to be embarrassed in the morning, like he always was when he needed comfort like this, but Lance didn’t mind. He ran a hand down Shiro’s back and managed to keep his eyes open until he felt Shiro fall asleep.


	29. Keith/Lance - Kindling

Lance’s hands trembled as he unsuccessfully tried to strike a flint over the clumsy tangle of braches he’d stacked. It was so cold that he couldn’t stop himself from shaking, and no matter how many times he struck the flint, it wouldn’t catch. 

“Here,” Keith said, crouching down beside Lance to take the flint from him, “I’ll do it.”

Miserable, Lance let him do it, and instead wrapped his arms around himself. Night set fast at this time of the year, and the temperature had already dropped below what was comfortable. A chill was in the air, and it meant it was going to get very cold that night. He was already so cold that he was on the verge of shivering. He was sure frost was going to start creeping over them soon.

After a few moments, Keith finally got a small fire going. It crackled and hissed as tree sap burned away, but it produced a decent amount of warmth. They were hiding out in a cave to hopefully avoid the worst of the weather. It wasn’t doing much to shield them from the cold bite in the air, but it was better than nothing. Lance wished they’d packed extra blankets, but it was hard to carry more than what they had, so it would have to do.

Keith disappeared back out into the forest for a moment and returned with enough wood to last for several hours. The cave itself had plenty, since a lot had blown in over the years, but more was always good. Especially if that frost came overnight, like Lance expected it to. They couldn’t burn wet or frozen kindling.

Lance shivered as a breeze blew it from the cave’s entrance. He huddled closer to the fire, stretching his palms out towards it. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked.

“A little.” Keith dropped down beside him again, tossing his blanket over his shoulders, and around Lance. He didn’t seem to mind when Lance pressed against him, rugged up in his own blanket. “But not as cold as you.”

Lance frowned, but his current situation was mostly his own fault. They’d crossed a stream today, and he’d slipped and fallen in up to his waist. The water had been a harsh shock of cold; further upstream must have started freezing over for winter already. Getting dry had been difficult when it was cold and breezy; the sun was little more than a light source, and they couldn’t stop to dry his clothes over a fire. He’d hoped he would be dryer by the time night fell, and he was, but dampness still clung to his clothes and that was making him very uncomfortable. Every slight breeze felt much colder than it was.

He should’ve been more careful when he’d crossed the stream, like Keith had been, but his mind had been all over the place. They were running away, trying to reach their companions in the next territory over, but it was difficult. The terrain here was unforgiving, and it wasn’t safe to use the main roads. 

But if the price of being safe with Keith was a difficult journey, then he was more than willing to make it.

Keith tossed another thick branch onto the fire to make it larger, and Lance sighed as the first few pulses of heat began to spread around them. It took a few minutes for the chill to be pushed back. 

“Warmer?” Keith asked.

Lance nodded, humming. He turned his face into Keith’s neck, his muscles relaxing.

Being with Keith was worth all the trouble in the world.


	30. Keith/Lance - Fiancé

Lance was not in a happy mood. He’d had a rough night sleeping thanks to an unusually bright, flickering streetlamp that hadn’t turned off when the rest of them had, and had woken with a headache that no amount of medication or water drinking had eased.

All he wanted to do was sleep, but even that was difficult. He wondered if he was just over tired, since his mother used to say that to his siblings a lot when they were bounding off the walls with too much energy. In any case, he felt terrible, and couldn’t sleep or do anything productive. He could feel the pile of laundry waiting to be washed in the bathroom hamper staring at him, and all the dishes stacked up in the sink attracting bugs. He wanted to clean but standing made his head spin.

“I can see you thinking about getting up,” a disapproving voice said.

“I need to at least get a load of washing done,” Lance complained, turning his gaze to stare at Keith, who had appeared in the lounge room entrance. 

“You’re not well enough,” Keith argued. He came over to nudge Lance back down, who had no energy to fight him off. “I can do the housework by myself, you know.”

“But…”

“No buts, or I’ll make Cosmo sit on you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Cosmo weighed a ton, and was impossible to move once he’d decided to stay somewhere. No to mention the dog’s limbs were incredibly bony, and one wrong twist meant he could end up feeling like he had an elbow between his ribs.

“Don’t try me.”

“Keith,” Lance whined, frowning.

Keith let out a ragged sigh and sat on the edge of the couch. He pressed his palm to Lance’s forehead, was quiet for a moment, then let his fingers drift through Lance’s hair, nudging the errant strands aside. “What kind of fiancé would I be if I let my sick boyfriend do all the housework?”

Lance pouted, his heart fluttering. “No fair,” he mumbled. Keith knew what pulling the fiancé card did to him. It was Keith who had done the actual proposing, more than two months ago now, but they both wore simple rings. The sight of them, and calling each other fiancé, still hadn’t gotten old to Lance yet. He doubted it ever would.

“Just try and get some rest, okay?” Keith said. “I know you didn’t sleep much last night, and you look like you’re going to pass out at any second. I can handle the laundry.”

“And the dishes?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, and the dishes. And I can water the garden. And I can take out the bins.” A wry but amused smile twitched at his face. “This is my home too, you know.”

Lance gave him a small smile. “I know,” he whispered.

“Good.” Keith leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Now, try and get some rest, or else I’ll get Cosmo to babysit you.”


	31. Keith/Lance - Communal

The nest was usually the centre of any pack den, and for Lance’s pack, that was no different. It was common for closely bonded packs to live together in a large house, or at least nearby one another, close enough to be in each other’s pockets. Packs shared many family duties, like housework and child rearing. Having a communal living style meant there was always someone around for company, and always someone around to watch out for another.

Lance liked to think his nest was the best place in the house to be. He was one of two omegas in the pack, the other being Curtis, who was Shiro’s mate. Curtis didn’t have very strong nesting instincts, but Lance’s ran wild, so he was often the one rearranging the room. Luckily for him, Curtis never seemed to mind, so he was allowed to do whatever he wanted.

And now that he was pregnant, he was constantly rearranging it.

For all intents and purposes, a nest was pretty much a lounge room; a place for everyone to gather and relax, to converse and sleep if they wanted. A lot of omegas nested constantly during the latter weeks of their pregnancies, spending all their time on bed rest or sleeping. Curtis had, and Lance had mother-henned him like crazy during that time. 

He expected he’d get the same treatment, later on in his pregnancy. He’d known Curtis for a few years now, had gotten used to his scent and his company. He liked having another omega around. 

Sighing, Lance relaxed back onto the mountain of pillows he’d piled on the floor. He found it more comfortable lying there as opposed to the couch, since he could fling his limbs about in every direction and not fear falling off the couch itself. He was in that rough few weeks of constant morning sickness, and on the worst days, it left him lethargic and queasy until evening. It wasn’t a particularly bad day that day, but he’d been up early in the bathroom, so he’d decided to take it easy for the rest of the morning.

Since he was home, Curtis had come to visit him for breakfast. Having the company of a calm omega made Lance feel a lot better. Curtis had brought his little girl along, and Lance had spent a few hours cuddling with her. She was quiet, just like her fathers, and she had the sweetest laugh. 

Of course, the one person who made him feel the best was his mate, Keith. Like most alphas, he was very protective of Lance, even more so now that he was pregnant. The moment Lance left the bed Keith was awake, no matter how deeply asleep he’d been. Keith had developed this strange sixth sense of knowing Lance was hungry before Lance knew himself. To be honest, Lance kind of liked the protectiveness. Keith was normally protective of Lance, but this was different. This felt more like pampering.

Most of the time, if Lance was very sick, Keith would take the day off to be with him. Another advantage of living with their pack was that the financial burden of living was shared between them, so mates were able to take time off to care for one another. 

Keith was often too restless to sit in the nest with him all day, but he’d hover, and check in with Lance several times an hour. He’d been concerned that his hovering would bother Lance, and they’d talked about it, but for the most part Lance wasn’t annoyed at all. Honestly, he’d expected himself to tire of it, but he hadn’t.

Around lunchtime, after Curtis and his daughter had left, Keith joined Lance down on the pillows. Lunch was cooking in the kitchen – Lance could smell it, and it made his stomach rumble, which was a good sign that his morning sickness was passing. Keith wasn’t much of a cook, but he’d learned a few dishes here and there since their pack had all come together. 

“Should only be twenty minutes or so,” Keith said, as he tucked Lance under his arm.

Lance hummed, turning his nose into Keith’s neck. “I think I’m hungry.”

Keith reached out a hand towards Lance’s slightly rounded stomach, and carefully dropped his palm down when Lance gave a little nod. “Were they kicking up a storm this morning?”

“Something like that. Not as bad as last week, though.”

“That’s certainly an improvement.”

Lance laughed. “No kidding.”

Keith gave him a small smile, gently rubbing his stomach. “How is Curtis?”

“He’s good,” Lance said, laughing again. Keith had given them space earlier that morning, and hadn’t seen Curtis for long. It was sort of an omega thing. “Not too much mothering, yet.”

“It’ll kick in soon enough. He likes to take care of people.”

Lance nodded in agreement. “He takes good care of Shiro. Makes him softer,” he said.

“That’s true,” Keith agreed. He and Shiro were close, as close as brothers. They were two of the three alphas in their pack, with the other being Allura. Keith generally deferred to Shiro when it came to making important pack decisions, but they were both good leaders, and they rarely fought. 

Their pack was pretty well balanced – two omegas, three alphas, and three betas. Lance had known two of the betas, Hunk and Pidge, since he was a kid. Hunk’s mate, Shay, was the third beta. A pack could be dysfunctional if there was imbalance between the secondary genders, but theirs was pretty equal. Lance liked to think that Shiro did a good job of keeping the peace – they all thought that, even if Shiro flustered at the compliment. 

To put it simply, they were more than just a pack, and more than just living companions. They were a proper family.

Lance sighed as he settled against Keith. Spending time with him, in a place as comfortable as their pack home, was all he felt like he needed to be happy.


	32. Keith/Lance - Chilled

Steam rose from the cup clutched between Lance’s curled fingers. He blew a gentle breath over the surface and sighed, feeling pleasantly chilled by the cool morning air. Snow would be coming in the next month, blanketing the surrounding mountains and the valley he lived in. He welcomed it, even though he preferred the heat, even though it withered his plants and turned the lush forest into a bleak landscape.

Snow meant the dragons would come back to rest.

For the most part, he was only interested in one dragon. Keith didn’t move to other continents when the seasons changed, not like full-blooded dragons. It wasn’t uncommon for dragon-shifters to partake in that same migration, however. Keith was just one of the ones who didn’t.

Perhaps that had something to do with Lance.

Either way, Keith never strayed far. Sometimes he was gone for days, sometimes weeks, but he always returned. The only time he was around indefinitely was when it snowed. Most dragons hated the cold, and found flying difficult since the steam and sweat that rose from their bodies would freeze. Having ice on their wings made it impossible to fly, so dragons migrated before the cold set in.

It had been days since he’d least seen Keith. More than a week, surely. Time tended to blur at this time of year. Lance had to make sure he had enough food to last the winter, and there were always repairs to be made to his greenhouses so that ice wouldn’t go creeping in. He was thinking about starting on those repairs that morning, after he’d finished his tea.

As he watched the pink sky slowly turn blue, a shape appeared. 

He knew it well enough to recognise it, and felt a smile curl over his face. He set his teacup down on the porch beside where he was sitting and stood, descending down the cottage stairs to stand ahead of his garden. His home overlooked a cliff into the valley, far enough away from the edge to give even the largest of dragons plenty of landing room, but close enough that he was easy to see for one certain dragon-shifter.

It took mere moments for Keith to reach him. Halfway through descending out of the sky his form shifted, going from a relatively large dragon to a human with dragon-like features, including wings, horns curling from his forehead, and scales around his eyes and on the tops of his hands. He landed heavily, grass and dirt kicking up around his feet, but he hardly seemed to notice as he tucked his red-scaled wings down.

“Welcome back,” Lance said, grinning.

It always took Keith a moment or two to shake off the shift, so his reply was more of a purring rumble than words, but Lance understood well enough. Keith stalked over to him, leaning in to press his nose into Lance’s hair, sniffing quietly. His senses were much higher than a normal human’s, so he could smell a lot more on a scent. He’d once explained that he could read emotions on Lance’s scent, and smell if he was injured. Scenting him was calming, and helped the last transitions of his shift fade away.

“I just made breakfast,” Lance offered.

“That’d be great,” Keith said after a moment, his voice gruff. 

“Back for the winter?” Lance asked, unable to keep the hopefulness from his voice.

Keith laughed quietly, flashing one fang as he did. “Yes, I’ll be staying.”

Lance, overjoyed, nuzzled in closer. Winter may have been cold but Lance had Keith, and that was all that mattered.


	33. Hunk/Lance - Mountainside

Lance was usually pretty balanced on his feet. Well, he liked to think so, anyway. He wasn’t particularly clumsy, though he did have his moments. But it wasn’t like he was constantly tripping over his feet, or dropping things, or bumping into furniture. He definitely knew people who were clumsier than he was. He didn’t think of himself as clumsy.

Which is why he was quite disgruntled with himself. 

Tripping over and spraining his ankle was not something he did often, and now he’d done it in front of all his friends. They were on a hiking trip, and were now only a short distance away from the end of the trail, where a café and sky carriage rail to take them back down the mountainside waited. 

“Stop pouting,” Hunk teased.

Lance only pouted more.

He supposed he was lucky he had a friend like Hunk. Not only was Hunk generally non-judgemental, but he was the type to be more concerned about his ankle than amused at his unexpected bout of clumsiness. He had good first aid skills, and had determined that Lance hadn’t done any serious damage to his ankle, but it was still painful to walk on.

Therefore, the only solution to getting Lance the rest of the way up the mountain was to carry him. And since Hunk was very caring, he wasn’t satisfied with just taking Lance’s arm around his shoulders. Nope.

He was strong enough to carry Lance in his arms like Lance was a princess he’d rescued from a tower.

It definitely wasn’t fair that Hunk was so muscled. Lance could feel the muscles in Hunk’s arms around his back and under his legs, and he was practically slumped against Hunk’s chest, where a lot of his strength came from. It was very hard to focus on anything except Hunk when he was being carried around like a damsel in distress.

Not that he was complaining.

“You can put me down,” Lance fretted, stubbornly ignoring the way he was clutching at Hunk’s shirt so hard he was surprised the fabric hadn’t torn.

“It’s okay, you don’t even weigh that much,” Hunk said, completely oblivious. Lance resisted the urge to hide his face behind his hands. How did Hunk not realise what he did to Lance? He was pretty sure it was completely obvious. Hunk’s blatant displays of strength were very… appealing, to put it lightly. 

Maybe Hunk would one day figure out Lance had a giant crush on him. Had for ages, now, and everyone seemed to know except for Hunk himself. Sometimes he did things – like carrying Lance up a mountainside, for example – that made him think Hunk liked him back, but he could never be sure if that was the case or if Hunk was just being his usual caring self.

In any case, he supposed he could just enjoy their closeness for now. It was easy to forget his ankle was sore when he was tucked up in Hunk’s arms, anyway.


	34. Keith/Lance - Encompass

Lance was woken halfway through the night by an emptiness in his bed. He hadn’t gone to bed alone, and didn’t always wake up when his bed companion left, but that night he did. It wasn’t a particularly troublesome night – he hadn’t been dreaming, at least not of anything he could recall, and the weather outside was quiet. Quite cold, he found, but quiet. 

Disgruntled, he pulled the mountain of blankets on the bed in closer, trying to keep every dredge of warmth tucked in with him. He opened his blurry eyes and stared out of the window, where he could see the surrounding forest and little else. Like most fey his age, he lived away from his neighbours, in his own little territory. He usually got a little tingle in the back of his mind, like the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, when something unpleasant was happening in his territory, but he felt no such thing at that moment.

Which meant that Keith, his wayward mate, was probably out patrolling on his own.

The wolf shifter had ridiculously intense instincts, as most shifters did. Keith didn’t have the same senses Lance did when it came to their territory, so to sate his protectiveness, he’d run along the border. His instincts were eased when his scent was laid thickly on the border. That way, any other shifter who strayed close would be able to tell this territory was claimed. If they still entered, then Keith had every right to drive them off, even if that was done through violence.

Lance supposed it was just one of those nights when Keith felt the urge to run. He couldn’t blame him, but he certainly missed Keith’s warmth in bed. Shifters ran warmer than most other species, and Lance considered that a blessing during the colder months. 

He doubted he could sleep without Keith nearby anyway, so Lance didn’t try. Instead he sighed and tossed and turned, pouting into his pillow as he listened to the quietness outside. Every now and then the trees rustled with a cold wind, and a night bird made its call. Lance could feel his senses expanding, reaching out to encompass the forest and everything in it he claimed as his territory. 

It was like there was a forest growing inside his mind, one that mirrored the world outside. He could rifle through it inch by inch in moments, looking for dangers or changes in the environment. It had taken him ages to learn how to open his mind properly, in a way that wouldn’t leave him overwhelmed or susceptible to attacks from other fey. 

A little under an hour passed before Lance heard Keith return. The pad of his feet on their floors was unmistakable. As quiet as he was, Lance could always fear him coming. The forest let him know, anyway.

He didn’t say anything as Keith clambered up onto the bed. He’d shifted back at some point, likely had a bath too if the soft scent of soap on him was any indication. He was careful as he slipped beneath the covers, inching closer to Lance to provide warmth.

“Have fun on your midnight run?” Lance whispered.

Keith hummed. “Sorry for waking you.” He bent his head closer to nestle his nose in Lance’s hair, breathing in his scent. Warmth still rose off his body like a tangible force. At this time of year, it wasn’t uncommon to see steam rise off of Keith after a run, especially if it was a more vigorous one. His blood was so hot that he contrasted with the cool winter air, enough to fog up the space around him, at least until he stopped panting. It was something that happened less in his human form, but lingered for a while after the shift as his body resettled.

“I woke by myself,” Lance explained, as he always did.

“Then sorry for keeping you waiting.”

A smile twitched at Lance’s mouth. “Worth the wait,” he mumbled, pressing his cheek against Keith’s collar, exposed by the cut of his sleeping shirt. He was better than a hot water bottle.

Now, with Keith back, he could sleep again.


	35. Keith/Lance - Lagoon

It was unusual for people to stray into Lance’s lagoon. His type were not unknown for eating whatever fell into their territory – an unsuspecting deer kneeling for a drink, a bird coming to rest on the calm surface, even a stray human who had decided to dip their toes in. He’d never eaten a human, mind, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t threatened to. 

It was the quickest way to get them to leave, after all.

Truth be told, after his first few encounters with humans, he hadn’t expected any others to come into his territory. Some tried to fish, casting lines of wire and baited hooks into his depths, but Lance wasn’t having that. He’d wrap the lines around his wrists and pull as hard as he could, usually toppling the startled human into the water. He had a faint scattering of scales on the backs of his wrists, ones that prevented the line from cutting into him. Humans were usually quick to get the message that they were unwanted, even without him having never eaten one.

But perhaps not all of them.

Like most mers, Lance had heightened senses, ones that acted like a security system for his lagoon. He could tell when another mer entered his territory, for example. He’d always get an unwelcome tingle down his spine. Likewise, when a human or animal disturbed the surface of the water, he could sense it. Their presence made the fins at his hips and behind his ears twitch.

He was experiencing that tell now. There was a human in the water somewhere, one that didn’t seem afraid of the possibility of being eaten. That alone was enough to make Lance curious. 

He found the human in the shallows of the lagoon, away from where a channel connected it to the sea. Speaking relatively, that was probably the safest part of the lagoon, since it was the furthest away from where mers typically preferred to swim. The shallows weren’t good for hiding, since sunlight would filter through the surface and glint off his scales.

As he swam closer, the tang of blood in the water reached his nose. He frowned, but continued closer still. The human was bleeding from a gash in his thigh, and was busy trying to clean and bandage the wound. Lance drifted towards the surface, blinking his eyes to take the initial sting of the air out of them. Only his eyes were above the surface.

It took a moment for the human to notice him. When he did, strangely violet eyes widened, and the human stiffened. Had he not known this water was mer territory?

Nevertheless, Lance tilted his head at the human. He was quite pretty as far as humans went, Lance thought. Tall with dark hair and those unusual violet eyes. There was blood smeared across his cheek, and his clothes were dirty. He looked like he’d been in a fight recently, and Lance couldn’t tell if he’d won or not.

“Damn,” the human whispered to himself, taking a step back towards the bank. “Who are you?”

Lance’s fins flicked up with indignation. He lifted his head out of the water and asked, “Who are you? This is my territory.”

The human winced. “I wasn’t aware.”

“Clearly.” Lance swam closer, delighting in the way the human stiffened. He was glad he still had some level of intimidation to him. “What injured you?”

The human frowned. “What?”

“Your injuries. How did you get them?”

“A disagreement,” the human said after a distrustful moment. “Settled with blades.”

“Did you win?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“For now,” Lance grinned, flashing his fangs. He was close enough to catch the human before he could escape, if Lance wanted. “Tell me your name.”

“Why?”

“I want to know.”

The human frowned once more. “It’s Keith.”

“Mine is Lance.” He tilted his head the other way. “I haven’t seen a human in a long time.”

“Because you eat them?”

“No,” Lance snorted, grinning again at Keith’s sceptical look. “I swear it.”

“You’re oddly chatty.”

“You’re the one that’s replying.”

Keith stared. Lance stared back. 

An odd human and an odd mer – surely something interesting could come of that.


	36. Keith/Lance - Cast

For all the adventures and tree climbing and rock-pool exploring Lance did as a child, he never broke a bone. There were some near cases, like that time he fell off the monkey bars at the park and landed on his arm funny, or that time he slipped on a slippery rock at the beach and cracked his elbow against the ground. One time, one of his older sisters had accidentally kicked a ball into his face, and his nose had been so bloody and swollen everyone thought he’d broken it, though he hadn’t.

So when he did break a bone for the first time, he was surprised. 

It didn’t even really feel broken, if he were being honest. He’d been walking his boyfriend’s dog when it happened – Cosmo had suddenly jerked on his leash as a dog barked behind a fence they were passing, and he’d accidentally pulled Lance over. He’d used his hands to break his fall, and felt his wrist give this weird crack under his weight.

He hadn’t even thought he’d broken it until the swelling didn’t go down and the tingling pain up his wrist didn’t fade. It was actually Keith who convinced him to go to the doctor’s to have it x-rayed. Keith had been horrified to learn Cosmo had pulled Lance over, since the dog was usually quite calm on walks, especially with Lance.

“He was just spooked, that’s all,” Lance complained, as Keith drove them to the doctor’s surgery.

“Still,” Keith insisted, brows furrowed with concern. “Maybe I should get him a stronger harness.”

“Honestly, Keith, he didn’t do anything wrong. You know he doesn’t pull hard.” 

All things considered, Cosmo was quite placid for his size. He was ridiculously big, and looked even bigger because of his fluffy coat, but he was usually easy to handle. Cosmo could still be rough and energetic when the mood struck, but he was gentle with Lance, much to Keith’s chagrin. That was why Lance could walk him when Keith was busy.

The x-ray showed that Lance had indeed broken his wrist, which meant he had to get a cast fitted, and have his arm in a sling for at least the next two weeks. He was not impressed.

“How am I meant to clean my face or wash my hair with one hand?” he groused, when they were on their way home. He hadn’t wanted the cast, but it was the best way to get his bone to set properly, so he was dealing with it. 

“I can help,” Keith said, sounding guilty. “It’s kind of my fault it’s broken, anyway.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “It’s not your fault, babe. And it’s not your dog’s fault, either.”

Keith grunted, unconvinced.

“But if you really want to make it up to me, I wouldn’t protest having my face masks personally applied,” he said, grinning. “It’s going to be like a spa!”

Keith rolled his eyes this time, though he was smiling again. “This’ll be fun."


	37. Keith/Lance - Beacon

“No luck?”

Keith winced, subtly turning his eyes away from Allura’s questioning face, and from Shiro’s disappointed frowning. He wasn’t going to answer that question.

“No luck,” Shiro groused, placing his beacon down on the table. “Not even a little glimpse.”

Keith slid his own beacon down alongside Shiro’s. The smooth, red gemstone glinted under the light, and for a moment, it almost looked like there was a little flame dancing inside its curves. He knew it wasn’t a trick of the light.

“This is becoming a problem,” Allura sighed, pressing her palms to the table. There was a map spread out on its surface, one with red crosses marked along almost the entire coast. Not much land was left to search anymore. “If we don’t find them soon…”

“I know,” Shiro said, resting his hip against the table as he stared down at the map. “Believe me, I know. Time is running out.”

Keith had heard this conversation more than a dozen times in the last two weeks. 

The five of them – Keith, Shiro, Allura, Hunk and Pidge – were currently unstable. They each represented an element: fire, shadow, light, earth, and nature respectively. Without their water counterpart, their powers were slowly tipping the wrong way, like a scale stacked too heavily on one side. 

And, for the most part, that was his fault.

For all intents and purposes, the world worked in opposing forces. Day and night. The sun and the moon. The ocean and the land. The shadows and the light. Earth and nature.

Fire and water.

But there was no water with them, at least not yet. They hadn’t been able to find whoever it was. Years of searching had become desperate in the last few months, as their powers started to disobey them, run wild. If they didn’t find the water user soon… get them their beacon to focus their power…

Keith didn’t want to think about what would happen to them all.

 

Lance turned his face towards the sea breeze, breathing in the salty air. It was another grey day, not uncommon for this time of year. He didn’t mind. The sea was beautiful, no matter how much sunlight fell on it.

He’d always felt connected to the water, even when he was a child. He was sure he was born with a love for the sea already deep in his heart. It was so intense that sometimes his parents feared for him. He was not scared of the water like other children, and learned to swim before he could walk. Sometimes as a child his parents would catch him walking straight out into the sea, uncaring of how big the waves were or high the tide was.

Soon enough, however, they learned the water wasn’t a danger to him. Not like it was to other people. As he grew older, he could control it. Bend it to his will. It took a lot of practice, and he wasn’t always good at it, but he learned. His family told him to keep it a secret, because no one else could do what he could. He never told anyone about his talents. 

Lately, however, he’d been feeling… unsatisfied. Like there was something more he should’ve been doing, or something he was missing. No matter how hard he practiced what he could do, or how long he spent in the water, he still felt incomplete. Unbalanced.

He couldn’t really talk about it with his parents, or his siblings. As much as they cared for him, and as protective of him as they were, they couldn’t understand how he felt. It was impossible to explain, and every time he tried, he got tangled up in his words. He could show what he felt better than he could say it, but his family couldn’t understand that sort of language.

Only the sea could.

Hence why he spent so long staring at it.

That morning, something was making the ocean uneasy. He wondered if it was his confused feelings making the tide swell, but he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t get a good read on the water, not like he usually could. Even when he called the water up into his hands, watching it snake around his wrists and twist into curling shapes, his uneasiness only grew. 

Something was changing. 

Sighing, he let the water dip back into the sea around him. He was hip-deep, feeling the tide tug at his ankles as waves crashed over him. His family lived close by the shore, and he knew this stretch of sand better than he knew the back of his hand. Not many people visited this part of the coast, this little shore. He usually had it all to himself.

Usually.

It was as the swell of the waves became considerably rougher that he first felt a prickle down his spine. Something twitched in the back of his mind, like an instinct only just being roused for the first time. He paused, water coiling around him like a serpent as he focused on that feeling in his mind. It didn’t feel dangerous, per say. Just foreign.

Before he could think better on it, he turned around, eyes scanning the shore behind him. At first he didn’t see anyone, but then several figures caught his eye. One was ahead of the others, but he could see them clearly, and they were watching him.

Water coiled tighter around his arms. A strange sense overwhelmed him, one that strengthened as he stared back at the people watching him. The one at the front was wearing a red jacket, and there was a strange heat to him, one that reminded Lance of fire. It was like there was a blaze burning in him, one that felt almost familiar to him. It was like the way the water lived inside Lance himself, except the opposite. 

It was almost like he was a beacon, Lance thought. Like something about him, maybe the people behind him too, were calling to Lance, except the red one was the strongest. He was almost scared, and took a step deeper into the water, feeling it creep up towards his waist. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the same sound he could hear pounding between his ears.

The red one held up his hands, palms spread. A spark of fire flickered between his fingers on each hand, twisting in the same pattern the water made around Lance’s arms. It was mesmerizing, and made the fear in Lance retreat, made the agitated water around him receded.

They were the same.


	38. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Bowstring

Lance’s fingers fidgeted on his bow. He felt as tense as the bowstring, his senses all on high alert. The delicate wings on his back shifted with his unease. Something large and clumsy had been crashing through his forest all night, and now that the day had broken, he was after it. He didn’t know what the creature was or if it was dangerous, but there was only one way to find out.

“I could feel your tension from over there,” Shiro whispered, appearing out of thin air beside Lance. “You need to stay calm.”

“I am calm,” Lance protested, “just nervous. Aren’t you?”

Shiro offered him a small, teasing smile. “I have my sharpshooter with me. Why would I be?”

Lance spluttered, embarrassed, but he couldn’t stop the way he puffed up with pride. He’d spent years honing his archery skills, and was rather proud of them. It was one of the only things he was inherently good at; he could aim straight, and wasn’t afraid to fire. He rarely missed his mark.

Shiro’s relative ease helped calm the tension in Lance’s muscles. He wasn’t fey like Lance, but he was a warlock, and his magic was powerful. He could detect magic at quite a distance, which made him quite skilled at following their target, since whatever it was had a noticeable magical signature. Lance was pretty adept at moving through the forest already, but he wouldn’t turn down Shiro’s help. They worked better as a team, after all.

“You getting any sense of what it could be?” Lance asked, as he ducked beneath a broken tree branch. 

“Not particularly.” Shiro approached a fallen log, one that had been there for a while if the moss growing over its surface was any indication. He easily vaulted over the top of it, but reached back a hand to help Lance. “How about you? Anything?”

Lance shook his head. “It’s nothing I’ve come across before. But I’m not getting bad vibes from the forest, so I don’t think it’s dangerous. Or at least I hope it’s not.”

Shiro hummed in agreement. He let Lance take the lead again as they trekked through the trees. There were snapped branches and gouges in the dirt every few metres, so it was easy to follow.

Eventually they came upon a clearing, where Lance heard the ragged breathing of something large and unfamiliar. He slowed, his fingers pulled his nocked arrow taunt as he peered out from between the trees. It wasn’t what he was expecting. He shared a glance with Shiro, but the warlock seemed just as surprised as he was.

A large wolf sat slumped in the middle of the clearing. It was easily as tall as Lance, and much broader than Shiro. Its fur was so dark and thick that it took Lance’s eyes a minute to fully make out its shape, but when he did, he saw that one of its legs was badly injured. Blood had matted its fur, and the leg was curled up in pain.

Lance lowered his bow. No wonder the creature had made such a ruckus as it had torn through the forest. Whatever it was running from, it had definitely gotten away, but not without consequences. Lance wondered if there were poachers creeping closer towards his forest and immediately felt a flush of anger. They never learned their lesson.

As if sensing them, the wolf suddenly raised its head. It let out a low growl, ears pinned back. Lance got a chance to see its eyes for the first time, and was surprised to find they were a vibrant violet, one that was flooded with pain and exhaustion but no less beautiful for it. He’d never seen eyes like that on an animal, not even a magic one, which left only one possibility – a shifter.

The moments it met his gaze, a strange spark of energy went through him. It was like an electric shock, one that made all the hair on the back of Lance’s neck stand up. His wings fluttered. He knew that feeling.

He’d felt it the first time he met Shiro’s eyes.

Heart racing, Lance looked towards Shiro again, only to watch as Shiro’s gaze met the wolf’s, too. He seemed to experience the same shock as Lance, and quickly turned his stare at him, expression surprised. Lance knew they’d both experienced the same thing. Shiro drifted towards him, taking Lance by the elbow. Lance sunk down against him and looked back at the wolf.

Its ears were flattened again, but it had stopped growling, and was instead letting out a pitiful whine. Concern welled up in Lance. It was clear that they’d found this wolf for a reason. 

Maybe it would be for the same reason Lance had found Shiro.


	39. Lance/Lotor - Disagreement

A lot of stress had been piling up on Lance’s shoulders lately. He was studying hard for his final exams at university, alongside working several days a week, often well past his shift was meant to end. 

He supposed it didn’t help that he was having a bit of a… disagreement with his friends. Most people, by the time they were his age, had found their soulmate. He was a late bloomer – he’d only recently found his match. He could understand why his friends might disapprove, but… he’d hoped they could put aside their differences in order to be happy for him. Leave the past in the past, as it were.

He supposed it also didn’t help that his soulmate wasn’t someone his friends thought about in a good light.

Lotor could be a very difficult person to deal with – not to Lance, but to others. He had a certain cutting tone to his voice, one that wasn’t always intended to be as harsh as it came off as. He and Allura had been friends, once, but that was a long time ago. Their fathers’ competing businesses tore them apart, especially when Lotor’s father started involving his son in very underhanded deals. Lotor wasn’t innocent in the entire ordeal, but he’d come to recognise his actions as wrong, and was setting to right them in his own way.

One of the reasons that Lance was so defensive of him was because Lotor was on the path to bettering himself before they met. It wasn’t like suddenly getting a soulmate turned him for the better. He got himself help, broke away from his father’s manipulative and abusive actions. Even if his words were just as sharp as his attitude, he wasn’t a bad person. 

They were a bit of an odd match, truth be told. Lance was very open and talkative and flirty and sometimes a little insecure. Lotor was harsh and ruthlessly confident in himself and willing to go for whatever he wanted, even if it was difficult to obtain. 

But Lance knew why they were together, better than anyone, maybe even Lotor. Lance was aching to be loved unconditionally, and Lotor was desperate to love someone unconditionally. It was a need to have someone loyal, and to be completely loyal. It was a very instinctual thing, Lance thought. Something fundamental to their wellbeing. In that sense, they were a perfect match.

Convincing Lance’s loved ones of that was proving to be difficult.

They didn’t see Lotor like he did. They saw him as the villain he used to be, and not the person he was trying to become. He’d changed before Lance even met him, but for the people he’d hurt – mostly Allura – that didn’t matter. Anything he did was seen as a way to manipulate Lance – he was only being nice because Lance was there, or he was only being nice to use Lance, or because he was stuck with Lance.

He hated those comments. His friends had cautioned him against falling for those sorts of tactics, and weren’t quite rude enough to make them themselves, but others did – co-workers, or strangers who only really knew Lotor from afar. 

It was frustrating to think about. Of course Lotor was bettering himself for Lance, but Lance wasn’t the main driving force. One of them, for sure, but a lot of Lotor’s improvement had come from himself. He’d had to fight to change the way he’d been brought up, to break the mould his father had forced him into. It hadn’t been easy for him. He’d spoken about it with Lance a lot, trying to get Lance to understand how he’d changed.

At first, Lotor hadn’t thought he’d deserved a soulmate, no matter how desperate he was for one. The only time his confidence ever wavered was when he was in private, when he felt the need to disclose his troubles with someone who wouldn’t use them against him. Most people had, in his life. He didn’t have many he could trust.

But he trusted Lance. They’d gotten to know one another, had spent enough time earning that trust from one another that they hardly kept secrets anymore.

That was why, when Lance found himself too restless and pent up to sleep, he slipped out of bed and went to find his soulmate. Like usual, he’d gone to bed earlier than Lotor, though Lotor had come in to check on him after the light had been switched off, as he often did. Lance had feigned being asleep, but he was getting too frustrated at himself to continue doing so.

Lotor was downstairs in the lounge room. He’d moved from his office to the couch and was leaning forwards towards the coffee table, where his laptop was perched in front of him. He didn’t notice Lance approaching until Lance sat down beside him.

“You’re awake,” he said, neither accusing nor confused, his voice simply flat and unassuming. 

“Couldn’t fall asleep,” Lance groused. He laid down on the couch and squirmed until he could rest his head on Lotor’s thighs. Lotor was rather comfortable to sleep with, despite all his angles.

“What are you thinking about?” Lotor’s hand drifted to his forehead, carefully brushing strands of hair aside. 

“A lot of things,” Lance sighed. He didn’t say more, because Lotor would understand from just that. He had an uncanny way of knowing what Lance was thinking just by looking at him. 

“I’m sorry to cause you so much trouble,” Lotor murmured. His voice took on that softened edge he reserved only for Lance, one that was rueful and disappointed in himself. 

“It’s not your fault,” Lance said firmly. He reached for Lotor’s hand and twisted it around so that he could rest his cheek against it. Lotor’s skin was smooth and cool, and it helped ease the tension in Lance’s head. “I know you’re trying.”

“I don’t want to be the cause of a rift between you and your friends,” Lotor admitted. “They’re important to you.”

“So are you.”

A small smile twitched at the corner of Lotor’s mouth. He bent to press a kiss to Lance’s forehead, his long, white hair falling in a curtain around them. “You’re a wonder, Lance.”

Lance grinned, cheeks going red. “Can I stay with you down here a while?”

“If you’d like. I’d be glad for the company.”

“Okay.” Lance let his eyes flutter shut as he turned his face into Lotor’s stomach. His clothes smelt like the washing detergent they used, mixed with something subtly unique to Lotor. It was calming, and deeply familiar to him now. 

To him, it didn’t matter what Lotor had done in the past. It wasn’t like he completely discounted Lotor’s actions, but it was useless to punish him for something he’d already realised was wrong. What was important was how he acted now, and with Lance, he was gentle and attentive. He didn’t argue with Lance’s friends, didn’t rise to bait even when provoked. 

He was striving to improve himself, and Lance loved him for it. 

“I love you,” he whispered, when he was mostly asleep.

Lotor’s fingers returned to his hair. “I love you too, dear one.”


	40. Keith/Lance - Potion

Lance, like most mers, relied on a potion made by master magic users to live safely on land. His home was beneath the water, where he could more comfortably take on and live in his true form, but many of his friends lived on land, and that was where many educational and professional businesses were located. For that reason, he spent a lot of time walking around on two legs, so he needed to take a potion a day to maintain that. 

Most of his potions came from a shop called Altea, run by the Altea family. At first he’d gotten his potions directly from the owner, a kind man named Alfor, but in the last year or so Alfor’s daughter had been making them. Allura was just as talented in magic as her father, if a little less experienced. Her potions worked perfectly. 

He’d never had a problem with Altea’s products before. He’d ordered more than just his regular transformation potions from them before, and every product had worked without problem.

Which was why he was surprised to find that the potion in his hands was wrong.

Since he took the transformation potion every day, and had been for years, he knew exactly what they looked like, smelled like, tasted like. Each potion – the ones specifically for mers – came in particular diamond-shaped vials stoppered with a chunk of cork-shaped coral. The vial in his hands was definitely the right shape, and it was definitely stoppered with the standard coral, but the liquid inside wasn’t right. It was normally bright blue, but this was much darker, closer to navy. 

Unease welled in his stomach. He’d been staying on land for the past few days visiting his friend Hunk, so he’d been relying exclusively on the potions to maintain his human form. If he didn’t have it, then he was at risk of transforming back to his true form in the middle of the street, which would not only be very embarrassing, but very painful, too. Transforming out of the water could really hurt him.

Lance carefully slipped the potion back into the paper bag he’d carried out of Altea. He was a regular customer there, and usually just ducked in to pick up the bag, which was always waiting for him. There’d probably just been a mix up of vials, but it was the sort of mistake that could be very dangerous.

He turned around and immediately began heading back to Altea. He hoped they had his potion ready, otherwise he’d need to find the nearest saltwater emergency point, a pool designed specifically for mer-related problems. He’d be able to safely transform there.

Altea was still quite busy when Lance entered it, as it had been half an hour before when he’d initially picked up the potion. He lingered by the door for a moment, trying to catch Allura’s attention, but she was serving several customers, and looked quite flustered.

When the store had cleared a little, he made his way forwards, still clutching the paper bag. “Allura?”

“Lance, you’re back.”

“I think I got the wrong person.”

Allura’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Can I see?”

Lance handed it over. 

Allura pulled the vial free and winced. “I’m so sorry Lance, I’ve given you the wrong one. I must have poured your usual dose into a different vial.”

“Do you have another? Or the other vial maybe?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I know you’re busy, but I’ve been on land for too long.”

“No, no, it’s completely my fault, you didn’t get what you paid for.” Allura sighed, pausing for a moment to dig beneath the front desk. He could the sound of vials clinking, but Allura straightened empty-handed. “I think I might have given it to a different customer. The one who probably wants this potion right about now.” She lifted the vial Lance had been given.

Lance bit his lip, unsure what to do. 

Another person entered the door behind him. Allura glanced over his shoulder, her face softening with relief.

“Keith!” she called, beckoning him over. “Wrong potion?”

A man appeared beside Lance, looking a little confused and disgruntled as he handed over a paper bag of his own. “Yeah. Something light blue.”

“That might be mine!” Lance exclaimed, eyes widening. 

Allura checked Keith’s vial and nodded to herself. “Yes, this is yours, Lance. I’m sorry for the mix up, Keith, Lance.” Allura switched the vials and handed Lance the right one, who gratefully uncorked it. This vial was still diamond-shaped, but slightly rounded, and stoppered with normal cork. He swallowed it in a few gulps and let out a relieved, shaky sigh as he felt the magic strengthen his current form.

“Sorry for walking off with your potion,” he said to Keith, who had downed his as well. 

Keith blinked at him and shook his head. “I should have checked it.”

Lance offered him a small smile. Keith was quite handsome, he found, as he gave him a proper once over. Dark hair, violet eyes, broad shoulders. There was something canine about his expression, but Lance couldn’t quite place it.

“You’re mer?” Keith asked, glancing down at Lance’s empty vial. 

Lance nodded, grinning. Mers were kind of rare on land, and he quite liked the attention he got for being one. He acted the same way about species not usually found beneath the waves – pretty much everyone. Coming to land for the first time had been quite the adventure for him. 

He wondered what Keith was. Most mers believed in coincidences, since their attitudes were much like the sea itself – constantly moving, but part of something more than just one individual. Maybe something fortuitous could come from this unexpected problem. 

In any case, Lance was happy to talk to the handsome man before him. He couldn’t deny that something about Keith was very fascinating to him. 

And besides, he liked the way Keith’s cheeks went very faintly red when their eyes met.


	41. Keith/Lance - Dinner

Lance fidgeted with a tea towel, waiting for the last few minutes on the timer to tick down. The house smelt of food, a strange mixture of the steaks and vegetables he’d cooked for dinner, and the sweetness of the cookies currently baking in the oven. He’d stressed so much over this dinner that he could hardly believe it was almost done. All he had to do was feed his guests when they arrived.

Still, that didn’t stop him from obsessively fluttering around the kitchen. He’d cleaned all the dishes he’d used, and set up the dining table in the adjacent room. He had bought fresh flowers for the centre of the table, which he didn’t usually do, because he thought it made the room look a little brighter. He could see signs of his nervousness in everything – in how every placemat was perfectly straight, in the way he’d only put out their nicest cutlery, in how every flower had been perfectly fussed over and turned to look perfect in the vase.

He justified his nervousness by acknowledging that this was an important dinner to him. He wanted it to go well, which was why he was putting so much effort in. 

He glanced at the timer once more, and satisfied that there was enough time left on it for him to go fuss at the table again, he went to do just that. As he re-straightened a placemat for probably the fifth time, a familiar figure walked into the room.

“Lance,” Keith sighed, not unkindly, as he folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. “I’ve seen you rearrange the table at least four times now. It looks good.”

“I know,” Lance said, biting his lip. He made himself leave the placemat alone. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

Keith pushed away from the doorway and wandered over, his arms going around Lance’s waist. “It is perfect,” he insisted, as he held Lance’s hand in his own. “You’re just nervous. Everything will be fine.”

“I know,” Lance repeated. He couldn’t shake his nervousness, even if he knew his friends were going to be happy for them. “Aren’t you nervous too?”

Keith was silent for a moment. “No,” he eventually said, as he lifted Lance’s hands to his mouth to kiss the ring on his finger, “just excited.” After another moment, he added, “And proud.”

Lance went red, and ducked his head to hide his embarrassment. He could feel Keith smiling against his fingers, could feel the cold band of the matching ring on Keith’s finger pressed against his skin. It was strange to think of what those simple little rings meant to them. Strange but warming.

This would be the first time they would tell their friends they were engaged. It was a recent development, but one their friends probably knew was coming. Still, excitement was a good word for how Lance was feeling, despite the nervousness. 

He had Keith with him to share his happiness, after all.


	42. Keith/Lance - Ill-Tempered

Keith took care not to let dishes clatter as he packed the dishwasher. He rationalised that the humming of the dishwasher was going to be quieter than the sound of him hand washing the dishes, so he was packing it carefully, trying to be silent. 

Upstairs, his pregnant mate was sleeping. Lance had had a rough night, and was still extremely tired come morning. He hadn’t even bothered to get out of bed, though Keith didn’t blame him. Every time he ate something he threw it back up half an hour later, and it was making him lethargic and ill-tempered. He’d kicked Keith out of the bed earlier that morning so he could make himself a nest because he’d been feeling so terrible. 

Keith didn’t really mind, though. 

He and Lance had discussed things like this when they’d found out Lance was pregnant. A lot of omegas experienced increased instincts when expecting, especially if they were already quite instinctual to begin with, like Lance was. Lance would never intentionally hurt Keith’s feelings, and was worried that he might become territorial while flooded with pregnancy hormones. He didn’t want to make Keith feel like he wasn’t involved in the pregnancy, since it was his baby too.

But, if Keith were being honest, Lance’s instincts didn’t bother him. They hadn’t before he’d fallen pregnant, and even though they were much more present now, they didn’t now. He liked that Lance had very strong omega instincts; he found it cute. Lance was comfortable and happy when he was doing very omega things, like nesting or purring.

So being kicked out of bed because Lance wanted space was fine. He was okay with getting up and make Lance a light breakfast, since he wasn’t the one currently suffering. Lance’s baby bump was just starting to show, and he was in that uncomfortable phase where morning sickness plagued him. 

Being quiet, however, was a challenge. He knew Lance needed as much rest as he could get, but there were things that needed to be done, like the dishes. He’d already decided to do the laundry later, because the zippers from their pants and jackets would rattle around the washing machine and he didn’t want the noise to wake his omega. He’d taken Cosmo for a quick walk around the block and had tidied the lounge room, but that was it so far.

As he turned the dishwasher on, he turned an ear back towards their bedroom, listening to see if Lance had woken up again. It still sounded quiet up there, which made him sigh with relief. He’d had to text their friends and ask them to reschedule the visit they’d planned for the day, since he knew Lance just wasn’t up to it. He was hardly awake enough to tell what the time was.

Unable to resist checking on his omega now that he was thinking about him, Keith quietly made his way upstairs. Lance was exactly where he’d been last time Keith checked – curled up in the very centre of their bed, with a mass of blankets and pillows surrounding him on every side. He’d finished the glass of water Keith had left on the bedside table for him, so Keith made a note to refill it when he went back downstairs.

For the time being he sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disrupt Lance’s nest, and watched his omega rest. He reached out a hand to run his fingers down Lance’s arm, watching goose bumps rise in their wake. Lance’s blurry eyes fluttered open for a moment, but when he saw Keith, he only offered a weak smile before drifting off to sleep again. 

Keith took that as a good sign. If Lance hadn’t been feeling better, he probably would have retreated further into his nest, or hidden his face in a pillow or blanket. He’d done it before, when he felt too ill to do anything, even respond to Keith’s presence. Again, Keith didn’t mind. How could he, when Lance was pregnant with their child?

He’d do anything he could to help his mate. Lance deserved a good alpha and Keith was determined to be just that.


	43. Keith/Lance - Character

Lance yawned as he leaned against Keith’s side. They were sitting together at the library, and while Lance’s textbooks were spread out on the table in front of them, he hadn’t gotten much study done. It was cold outside, and the heating in their dormitory block was out, so they’d trudged back to campus to find warmth. 

For the record, Keith wasn’t really studying, either. He was fiddling on his phone with one hand, while the other was stretched out on the back of the small, worn couch they were sharing. He wasn’t as bothered by the cold as Lance was, and although his cheeks and the tip of his nose had gone red when they’d walked outside to get here, his complexion had settled. Lance alternated between staring at the side of Keith’s handsome face and resting his eyes, on the verge of falling asleep.

“How long until they said the heat would be fixed?” Lance mumbled into Keith’s shoulder, his words sluggish.

“Another hour or so.” Keith’s fingers drifted up to the back of Lance’s head, slowly carding through his hair. “Are you still cold?”

Lance shook his head, mumbling out an unintelligible sound. He was all toasty and warm now, and leaning against Keith was definitely helping with that. “We should probably study, right?”

“What, use our time in the library productively?”

“Uh huh.”

“Too out of character for us.”

Lance snorted, unable to help himself. “Fair enough.”

Keith smiled to himself and pressed a small kiss to Lance’s forehead. “I’m surprised you’re not asleep yet, to be honest. You’re all melted right now.”

“Give me a minute,” Lance mumbled around another stretched yawn, his eyes slipping shut again. This time of class session always made him tired, since due dates were fast approaching and exam prep was beginning. It was bad timing on behalf of the heat failing, but at least it gave them a chance to get out of their rooms that wasn’t just to go to class or to the grocery store.

Another yawn escaped Lance. He shuffled down further onto the couch, curling his legs up so he could fit and so that he could rest his head on Keith’s lap. Keith’s hand followed him down, continuing to play with his hair, almost like a second thought. It was very comforting, and made Lance sink closer towards sleep.

A little nap wouldn’t hurt.


	44. Keith/Lance - Captors

The only sound Lance could hear was his own ragged breathing. He struggled against the ropes binding his wrists, letting out a frustrated growl against the cloth gag stuffed in his mouth when it proved futile. The ropes were so tight they were digging burns into his skin.

No matter what he did, he couldn’t squirm free. He’d been trying for hours. By now, he’d sweated through his clothes, and his muscles were beginning to cramp from the position he was in. He desperately needed to stretch, but he doubted his captors were going to untie him any time soon. If his hands were free, then he could use magic against them. Not that he had the energy to use magic anymore, though… but they didn’t know that.

Groaning, he let his head thump back against the wall behind him. How long had it been since he’d been snatched away from home? Days, probably. There was no way for him to see the sky in this dark holding cell, so it was impossible to tell. 

Eventually someone came for him. Two Galra soldiers wearing standard, identical armour unlocked the metal gate sealing him in the cell. They ignored his heated glares as they hauled him up by the arms, their grips bruising. He stumbled as they yanked him down the adjoining hallway, his gag muffling a pained hiss as his joints protested every move.

The hallway was too dark for him to see well. After a moment, they emerged into a larger, lit area, one that was circular like an arena, and surrounded on all sides by a raised platform. He squinted against the lights, but they were backlighting the few people on the platform, obscuring their faces and stretching out their shadows.

Strange words flowed around him. He didn’t speak the same language as the Galra, but he could understand what their intentions were just fine. The Galra were notorious for kidnapping and enslaving magic users. They themselves gained magic by siphoning magical energy from other realms; they weren’t often born with it inside them, like the magic users they kidnapped. 

He tried to control his breathing as he waited to see what would happen. The Galra on the platform argued and gestured, before the soldiers pinning him nodded, and began to drag him away again. Something heavy sunk in Lance’s stomach. He got the feeling that something much worse was going to happen to him. He struggled against the soldiers as they escorted him into a different corridor, one that led away from the dungeons, to somewhere worse.

The soldiers spat something at him, jerking him forwards hard enough to wrench Lance’s shoulders back. Pain skittered down his spine, stealing all the fight out of him. He was so tired, and everything hurt.

An unusual sound caught his attention. It was so quiet he almost didn’t notice. He was so used to listening to the footfalls of the soldiers that he instantly knew it wasn’t from them. When he glanced around, he didn’t see anything, but that only made worry crease his brow. The soldiers hadn’t seemed to notice the sound at all.

Something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Then, out of nowhere, one of the soldiers let out a pained groan. They crumpled to the ground in a heap, their armour making a racket as they went. Lance was tugged down with them, yelping as his elbow cracked against the ground.

Metal crashed against metal. The second Galra soldier spat out something that had to be a curse, but a slick sound cut them off, and they crumpled to the ground, too. Lance flinched, scuttling to the side. When he glanced up, a hooded figure was standing where the soldier had been, a bloodied dagger clutched in their hand.

As they turned, Lance caught side of their face. His skin was pale, but there was a Galra-wildness in his eyes, one that faded as he blinked. A scar marred his right cheek, and dark strands of hair poked out from beneath his hood. He wasn’t Galra, at least not completely.

“Come on,” the man said, reaching down to yank Lance’s gag off. “We need to move.”

Lance coughed and spluttered, sucking in a huge breath. “Who are you?”

“My name is Keith.” The man reached down to run his dagger under the bindings on Lance’s arms, cutting him free. “Can you stand?”

“With a bit of help.”

Keith held out a hand to help Lance up. “We need to move fast.”

“Do you know the way out?”

“I do.” Keith adjusted his hood, glancing down the hallway.

Lance hesitated, rubbing at his aching wrists. “Why should I trust you?”

“I’m freeing you, aren’t I?” Keith shot him a look, then sighed. “I work for a rebellion group, one that’s freeing the Galra’s captives. Like you. If you stay here, they’ll siphon your magic out of you until you’re nothing but a shell.”

Lance winced. He knew that already. 

Keith, seeming to sense Lance’s unease, put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m not here to hurt you, or to trick you,” he said. “You don’t have to come with me. You can try and make your way out of here alone, if you want.”

Lance shook his head. He didn’t know the way.

“Then let’s go,” Keith said. “Before we’re caught.”


	45. Keith/Lance - Gardening

Lance liked spending time in his garden. It hadn’t been very much to look at when he and Keith had first moved into the house, but now it was something to be proud of now, something that always had a flower or two blooming every month of the year. Many weekends had gone into fixing up the garden beds and replanting new plants.

It was a sunny morning that morning, so Lance was spending time tending to the garden, as he often did. His love for it was something his parents had taught him, since his childhood was filled with memories of playing in the garden of his family home. His mother had tended to rows and rows of beautiful, blooming flowers, and his father had built a little vegetable bed for all the herbs and veggies they used in the kitchen.

As far as Lance was aware, Keith had popped down to the grocery store to grab some groceries, so he was meandering about the garden while he waited for Keith to get back. It was shaping up to be a wonderful way, which was a promising idea he thought, as he pulled tiny weed sprouts free and pawed through his slowly growing, and ripening, vegetables. 

“How’s it looking?” a familiar voice asked.

Lance glanced up, and smiled when he saw Keith leaning over the front fence, one eyebrow raised. “Looking good,” he said, unable to keep the pride from his voice. “Not a snail in sight.”

Keith laughed quietly and let himself in. He had a grocery bag in one hand, but seemed to have momentarily forgotten it as he detoured towards Lance. “Any major plans for this weekend?”

Lance shook his hand, dusting his hands off as he stood. “Nothing major, just the usual stuff.” Every weekend he made sure to dedicate some time to the garden, picking any ripe vegetables and cleaning out weeds or debris that had made its way into the beds. “Got everything you need?”

Keith lifted the bag. “Yeah, got it all.” They rotated chores, and while Lance did a lot of the cooking, Keith was slowly teaching himself a few dishes here and there. “Breakfast should be ready in about half an hour. That alright with you?”

“Of course.” That gave Lance plenty of time to continue browsing his garden, which brought a smile to his face. 

A wonderful day, indeed.


	46. Hunk/Lance - Sneeze

“Ugh, everything itches.”

“Stop scratching,” Hunk chastised, as he walked past Lance to whack him with a tea towel. “You’ll just make it worse.”

Lance groaned for what felt like the hundredth time. He was one of the unlucky people who felt what many called a ‘magic shedding’ quite strongly. For the majority of people, Lance included, it was something that happened once a year, usually evenly spaced apart from the previous time. It happened when a build-up of leftover magic happened, and after some time, needed a way to dispel itself. 

Most people shed it; they spent a few days with their magic leaking out of them almost like an allergy, which could make them tired or grouchy or hungry or anything like that, really. It was not the most comfortable time, but it was better than having too much magic stuck in the body. That could be far worse, and far more difficult to fix.

Lance was currently at the tail-end of his cycle. He’d spent the last two days holed up in bed doing little more than sleeping, and now he felt like he had way too much energy. Anytime his skin brushed up against something that wasn’t his clothes he felt incredibly itchy. It was a sign that all the leftover magic in him was on its final way out, but knowing that didn’t really make him feel any more comfortable. 

At least he had Hunk around to take care of him. They’d been friends since they were young children, but together romantically for the better part of a year now. Sometimes it didn’t really feel like their relationship had changed, which Lance didn’t mind. The biggest difference was the kissing; there was a lot of that now.

Hunk made another pass by the couch where Lance was moping, but this time he had a freshly brewed cup of tea. Lance could tell from the slightly pink steam rising from its surface that it was one of Hunk’s special teas – infused with magic to give it extra properties. In this case, it looked like healing, which Lance was certainly appreciative of.

“Here,” Hunk said, as he carefully passed the mug into Lance’s hands.

“Thank you,” Lance said, as he took a grateful sip. It made the uneasy, restless itching under his skin subside for a moment. Hunk was great at combining food and magic, he had an amazing talent for it.

“Feel better?”

Lance went to answer, but paused as he felt a little tingle in his nose. A moment later, a sneeze ripped through him, one that almost made him spill his tea. Books on the shelf across the room threw themselves to the floor in response.

“Oh dear,” Hunk said, muffling his laughter as Lance went red, “still a bit of magic to shed, then.”

“Stop laughing,” he whined. “I can’t control it.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“You are literally laughing right now.”

Hunk snickered.

Lance pouted, but he was smiling too. They were ridiculous.


	47. Lance/Lotor - Capricious

It wasn’t often that the dark elves ventured out of their realm. Lotor knew this fact well, since during his childhood – which was extensive, since elves aged slowly, but lived for centuries – he hadn’t been permitted to leave under any circumstance. When he’d reached the age of maturity, he’d been permitted to accompany his father out of the realm, but only under numerous pairs of watchful, punishing eyes.

Of course, growing up meant he also developed quite the rebellious streak, so when he was strong enough, he took himself out of the realm. He and his father didn’t get along, not even in the loosest sense of the term, and Lotor was always looking for ways to defy him. Or at least, he had been. In recent decades he’d settled more into himself; he’d proved he could evade his father’s watchers if he wanted to, so his father now let him roam as he pleased, doing as he pleased.

And, for the most part, he played the part of a very respectful prince. He was rather good at mind games of all kinds, especially the political type, which meant his trips out of the dark realm could be used to the advantage of the kingdom. Why send dignitaries when the capricious son of the king was already traipsing out of the realm? 

It gave him a sense of control over his life, which he liked. As much as he preferred the dark realm, he was intensely curious about the world. Not all places welcomed dark elves, but that never deterred him. Lately, there’d been one realm he’d become quite... interested in.

Perhaps that was putting it too vaguely. It was less of a realm he was interested in, and more of an individual in said realm.

He wasn’t alone in his fascination. Many people were fond of the prince from the enchanted realm, the youngest child of King Alfor and his late wife. Prince Lance was quite enigmatic, despite his clumsy way with words and his eagerness. He had the typical shining blue eyes of the enchanted elves, and a smile that was quite magnetic, even to people like Lotor who were usually never interested in such things.

He supposed it helped that Lance seemed quite interested in him, too. Considering dark elves rarely left their realm, it was unusual for others species to see them – Lotor’s pale lavender skin and yellow sclera were uncommon to see, and quite out of place. Most people, upon first meeting him, were interested. Lotor could understand that. He could also understand why his nature tended to dispel any friendly or romantic notions people might have about him, once he’d spoken to them or been in their presence for any amount of time. He did that on purpose.

What he couldn’t understand, however, was the prince’s continued interest. Not to be misunderstood, Lotor quite liked the attention. The prince was quite interesting company, and had no qualms about showing Lotor around the palace, or guiding him down leisurely paths in the forest.

Lotor should’ve been using it as a chance to familiarise himself with the enchanted realm. Should’ve.

Instead, he always found himself distracted by Lance’s chattering. The prince had an almost endless stream of conversation ready, and it was absolutely hypnotising. He was an attentive listener too, always hanging on Lotor’s every word, curious about not only the dark realm, but Lotor’s experiences, his likes and dislikes, his character. It was… refreshing. Not many took the time to get to know Lotor as deeply as Lance was trying to, and Lotor found himself flattered.

Even when they were apart, the prince continued to occupy Lotor’s thoughts. Lance was quite adamant about keeping in contact, and would often send Lotor messages by magic, ones he dutifully replied to. He’d never taken a romantic interest in someone before, so when he realised that his fascination with the prince had turned to that, he was quite surprised.

But he wasn’t surprised to find that Lance reciprocated his feelings.

It was a little obvious, actually. The prince could be flirtatious and charming at will, but around Lotor he was flustered and bashful. Knowing that he was fond of Lotor made it easier for Lotor to admit he shared those feelings. He was quite guarded when it came to his emotions, and didn’t like the idea of putting them into anyone else’s hands, lest they try to control him…

But Lance was different. He didn’t treat Lotor like others. He knew Lotor was strong – they’d sparred a few times, and each time Lotor had rather gleefully pinned Lance to the floor, or the wall, or even to Lotor’s own chest once – and Lance respected that. But he treated Lotor delicately anyway, like he was… someone to be wooed, or someone whose affections he desperately wanted. It was almost his natural state of being, to treat Lotor so nicely. Lotor wondered if he was too used to the sharp and often cruel personalities of dark elves. If liking a person for their softness made him weak and vulnerable.

In the end, he didn’t particularly care. Others could think of him as they wanted – that had always been the way it was, anyway, why should he care now? He only cared what Lance thought, and Lance seemed to like him just fine.

And that was more than enough for him.


	48. Keith/Lance - Uncanny

A small cat darted from one side of the alleyway to another. Keith watched it from a second-story window, where he was sitting on the windowpane with a steaming mug in hand. Outside, it was raining, coming straight down from the sky without the wind to slant its path. The only cover available from the rain, aside from being indoors, was beneath the industrial dumpster pushed up against one wall, or in the pile of soggy cardboard boxes beside it. The cat chose to scamper into one of the boxes.

Keith raised his mug to his lips. He was just on the side of too warm, with the mug and the sweater he was wearing. His flatmate liked to keep the heater on most of winter, and was willing to pay more than half of the electricity bill, so Keith didn’t complain. He supposed it was better than being outside, like that cat was.

After a moment, he saw a head peek out from the boxes. There it was again, that cat. He’d been seeing it for weeks now. It was definitely a stray – even if its fur was well-kept, its ribs were starting to show, and it was starting to look sluggish. He was concerned. Winter nights were harsh, and the weather was always bitter. Rain and wind were both freezing. He wondered how the cat stayed alive. 

With a sigh, he turned away from his window. He’d tried to trap the cat, but the little thing was too distrusting, and seemed to know when it was about to get caught. Not even animal control had managed to out-smart it. To be honest, the cat’s intelligence seemed uncanny. Keith had a sort of sense for uncanny things, like a little alarm in his head. His mouth always inexplicably filled with the taste of smoke and sugar when he was looking at something or near something a little less human than expected.

But he hadn’t gotten close enough to the cat to figure it out for sure yet.

It was rather frustrating, actually. Keith didn’t like having unanswered questions, or thoughts left incomplete. Every time he spotted the cat out of the corner of his eye he was reminded that he had questions about it. He supposed this rain was as good as any a time to get those elusive answers.

Setting aside his mug, he made his way out of his room, and exited the apartment. There was a no pets rule, but Keith was pretty confident he’d be able to sneak a cat in without being noticed.

It was as miserable as it had looked outside. The alleyway could be accessed from a door in the building’s communal laundry. It was stuffy in the laundry since a few of the machines were always running at any given time. The dull thump of clothes spinning around and round muffled the sound of him unlatching the heavy side door. He had to prop it open with a cinderblock so that it wouldn’t shut behind him, since it could only be opened from the inside; there wasn’t even a handle on the outside.

The pile of cardboard was where he’d last seen it, predictably. He dealt with the rain as it immediately soaked through his clothes to head towards the boxes. They were starting to bow inwards from the rain, making him cringe as he moved them aside. They hit the ground with a wet, slopping sound, which didn’t help matters.

As he moved the boxes aside, a familiar burst of smoke washed across his tongue. He resisted the urge to run his tongue over his teeth, knowing that it wouldn’t help, and waited for the acrid tang to waver into something more sugary. A small, satisfied feeling came over him. Definitely not a normal cat, then.

He found the feline cowering at the bottom of the pile. It hissed when he ducked down to reach for it, its ears flat against its skull. From this close, he could see that it had frightfully blue eyes and a bobtail. 

“Enough of that,” he said, frowning, as he grabbed it – carefully – by the scruff, quickly resting it in the cradle of his arm. “It’s raining and I want to go back inside and I know you’re not a normal damn cat.”

That seemed to surprise it. The cat gave up its hissing and spitting to instead fall limp in his arms, nothing but a low, unhappy rumble escaping it.

Keith took the cat back inside, kicking the cinderblock away so that the door would shut behind him. He found a towel resting on top of one of the washing machines and used it to dry the cat off as best as he could. It put up with that.

“Okay,” Keith said, as he set the cat down on one of the washing machines. “First things first. I’m not meant to have animals inside, so no running off, okay?”

It gave him a sour look.

“Next, like I said, I know you’re not a normal cat. Doesn’t mean I know what you are, or how much you understand me. I’m going to assume you’re pretty smart though.”

No response.

Keith tried not to roll his eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I’m cold and wet, and I don’t really want to stay in this laundry forever. You cool with coming up to the apartment?” After a moment, he added, “I’m going to try and help you if I can, by the way.”

The cat regarded him for a long time, uncertainty in its expression. It didn’t move to run away, which Keith took as a good sign. It didn’t hiss when he picked it up either, gentler this time.

As he ventured back to the apartment, he asked, “You got a name?”

He wasn’t sure if he expected an answer, but he was definitely surprised when he suddenly heard a voice in his mind.

_It’s Lance._

“Lance, huh,” he murmured. “Alright then.”


	49. Lance/Shiro - Prospects

Lance spun the ring around his finger, fiddling with it until the smooth metal became warm from his touch and not from sitting against his skin. He felt almost like it was a shackle, and just looking at it made a sick feeling swell in his stomach. Over and over again he’d been betrothed, but nothing worked out.

“I love you already,” they said.

“All you have to do is listen to me, and this marriage will work out,” they said.

“I can buy you anything you want,” they said.

“You’re pretty enough to sit by my side,” they said.

“I have money,” they said.

Why would he want any of that? He’d grown up the spoiled son of the royal king and queen, but his parents hadn’t spoiled him in the way of wealth. No, they’d spoiled him with humility. He learned working skills, like sewing and cooking, and he was taught to treat everyone as equals. His parents never gave him free reign over the royal coffers, and if he wanted something, he had to earn it. 

It wasn’t easy, but he didn’t think it was easy for anyone. Work was rewarded in kind, and that was a very valuable lesson. 

Perhaps that was why he struggled so hard with this. While it was usually the first child who married first, Lance’s older sister Allura wasn’t interested in such a relationship. Her focus was entirely on ruling, and on learning to be a kind, diplomatic queen, one to make their parents proud. This was a fact recognised by everyone who met her – including their parents. They knew that a marriage would distract her, and ultimately, at this time, make her unhappy.

But a marriage was necessary. Lance needed to marry someone to strengthen his kingdom’s prospects. His parents had explained it to him several times – a marriage showed that a country was strong, and that its backbone, the royal or governing family, was powerful. It didn’t have to be a marriage to another royal, or to a noble. But a marriage would prove not only to other kingdoms but to their people too that they were prospering.

“Prince?”

Startled from his thoughts, Lance jerked his hands behind his back, his head whipping around to the door. His personal guard, a man named Shiro, was peering into his room, a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Are you alright?” Shiro slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. He was surprisingly quiet in his armour, as always. “You haven’t left your room all day.”

Lance sighed, turning his gaze away. He knew it was useless lying to Shiro. The man had always seen right through him. They’d known each other for several years now, and Lance admired Shiro greatly. He didn’t want to lie to Shiro. He went back to fiddling with his ring. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”

Shiro’s eyes darted down to his hands as he wandered over to where Lance was sitting beside a window. “About your marriage?”

Lance nodded.

“The last suitor didn’t work out?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t like him much anyway,” Shiro declared.

A small smile twitched at the corner of Lance’s lips. “You haven’t liked any of them.”

“That’s because none of them like you,” Shiro said, “not really. Not honestly.”

“The first woman called me handsome,” Lance pointed out.

“Anyone can see that you’re handsome, Lance. Your worth is not just surface level.”

Lance’s cheeks flushed. “They offered a lot of money to the kingdom.”

“Love can’t be bought. Not real love,” Shiro said firmly.

“But this doesn’t have to be a marriage of love. It can be for show.”

“Do you think your people will rejoice at that?” Shiro reached for Lance’s hands, squeezing them gently. “Your people love you, Lance. They know your smiles well, and will realise if you’re in an unhappy marriage. You should marry for love, not for opportunity.”

Lance lowered his eyes. This was the internal debate he’d been having for weeks, now. He didn’t know how to handle the pressure on his shoulders. “There isn’t anyone I want to marry, though,” he said. 

Shiro sighed, thinking for a moment. “You should marry someone you trust,” he finally said. “If you have to marry, partner yourself with someone you love. Or someone you know deep down you are starting to love. Surely one of your suitors have caught your eye?”

Lance didn’t want to say that no one had impressed him. He’d been shuffled around from partner to partner for months now, in preparation for a proposal. He’d met and dated dozens of people – surely one of them was a good fit, right?

But his heart just wasn’t in it. 

He didn’t trust the people he’d just met. It wasn’t the same as spending quality time with someone, getting to know someone without the status of royalty sitting on his head. There weren’t too many people that knew Lance for who he truly was.

But Shiro did.

And Lance liked Shiro. Trusted him completely. He’d been wondering for a long time now if the reason he hadn’t given his attention to anyone was because he already liked someone else. Over the years he’d come to value Shiro’s attention quite highly. Shiro knew him for who he was, and was always kind to him, even if that sometimes meant being tough. 

Lance lifted his eyes again. “Will you marry me?”

Shiro’s eyes widened, his hands falling away from Lance’s. “Me? I’m just a guard, Lance.”

“It doesn’t have to be a noble I marry,” Lance said. “I can choose.”

“But–”

“Shiro, please,” Lance pleaded, reaching for his hands again. “It’s like you said, it has to be someone I trust, and I trust you Shiro. You must know that I care about you.” He hesitated. “Unless you don’t want to marry me…?”

Shiro’s cheeks reddened. He’d never blushed around Lance before. “That’s not it.” He let out a ragged noise, and squeezed Lance’s hands again, looking more flustered than Lance had ever seen him. “Me?”

Lance nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Lance made sure to consider the question carefully. He trusted Shiro. He found Shiro attractive. He liked the way Shiro treated him, like he was an equal, like he was precious, like he was a friend. He knew that if Shiro truly didn’t like him, then he would say no. Gently, of course. But he’d tell Lance no.

He wasn’t saying no, though.

“I’m sure,” Lance said. He looked at Shiro with hopeful eyes.

Shiro sighed, but a small smile touched his face. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll marry you.”


	50. Keith/Lance - Weave

Lance was used to having short hair. 

He liked it that way, since he found it bothersome when hair tickled the back of his neck too much, or fell in front of his eyes too often. Short hair was easier to style, too. He could brush it down to turn wild bed hair into something presentable, and he could slick it back for something a little classier. It was easy and workable.

But he liked playing with long hair.

He thought that that was because of his sisters. Rachel and Veronica had always had longer hair than him, even when Veronica cut her hair into a bob when she was a teenager (Lance might have cried, because he was super young back then and he’d loved her long hair). His mother had taught him how to braid their hair, and how to do fancy styles. He was surprisingly good at it. 

Although he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he was kind of glad his boyfriend had longer hair. Keith’s hair went almost down to his shoulders, and was long enough to put up into a small ponytail if he wanted to. He didn’t do much to maintain it, but Lance had managed to convince him to take a little more care. He conditioned now, instead of just shampooing. Baby steps.

Luckily, Keith wasn’t opposed to having his hair played with. Lance sort of had to trick Keith into letting him fiddle with his hair, since Keith wasn’t used to it. Lance would run his fingers through Keith’s hair while Keith was asleep beside him, or when they were watching a movie together. If Keith woke up grouchy, Lance would offer to brush his hair free of knots, and always took the time to let the strands fall through his fingers. It was relaxing for him, and he knew it was relaxing for Keith, too.

Now Keith asked for him to do it, if they had the time. When they were relaxing together, Keith would rest his head in Lance’s lap, and Lance would weave and un-weave braids into his hair. Sometimes Lance would do it at night, when Keith was asleep. It was always amusing seeing him waking up with wavy hair from the little plaits Lance put there. Keith was usually so relaxed by it that he fell asleep, so Lance had free reign.

It made them closer, he thought.


	51. Keith/Lance - Frostbite

Lance had always thought the crunch of snow beneath his feet as he walked was one of the loudest sounds he’d ever heard. When the vale was absolutely silent, as it often was during winter, the sound of him walking could be outright deafening. He was sure the villages across the valley could hear every step he took as he travelled from home to the greenhouse or market and back. 

There was one thing that was louder than him, though. 

A familiar rush of wind came over Lance from behind. He yelped, grabbing at his coat to keep it from flying off and taking him with it. He shot a glare over his shoulder.

There stood the noise-maker of the century. 

A dragon the size of a small house stood behind him, head ducked low. Its scales were a deep red, accented with black and the faintest hint of silver around his eyes and wingtips. There was a line of dangerous spikes running from the top of its head down the length of its spine and tail, and its claws were long and sharp. It was definitely an intimidating beast, but Lance knew better.

“You again,” he muttered.

The dragon huffed out a breath at him, one that was warm and tinged with smoke. It crunched over the snow towards him, its tail sending waves of snow dust out behind it. Most dragons, as far as Lance was aware, hibernated during the winter, or at the very least migrated somewhere warmer. Not this one, though. It seemed warm enough to withstand the cold, and wasn’t afraid of snowstorms or blizzards in the slightest.

Lance knew it was no ordinary dragon. He’d only seen the dragon’s human form a few times, and mostly by accident. Its name was Keith, and he was quite handsome, when he wasn’t covered in scales. But he was nervous around Lance, knowing that even as a human he was much stronger than him, and could easily hurt him by accident. Lance thought that Keith would spend time with him in his human form when he was ready and comfortable, so he never pushed it.

But talking to a dragon could be difficult, since it couldn’t exactly talk back.

The dragon lowered its head, nudging Lance with the end of its nose. It breathed on Lance’s cloak, sending warmth ruffling over him. Lance sighed as his shivers were chased away.

“Fine, I’ll forgive you for almost knocking me over today,” he grumbled, rubbing a hand over its snout. 

A low rumble was his only response. 

“I’m going to the greenhouse today,” Lance explained. Since meeting Keith, keeping his vegetables from getting frostbite was a lot easier. The greenhouse was more towards the stream, away from his house – a perfect place for Keith to hover around him in privacy, as he’d taken to doing. 

Really, there wasn’t much to complain about when it came to having a dragon companion. Lance was quite fond of Keith, despite the way he complained. He’d been frightened at first, as any reasonable person would’ve been. Knowing there was a dragon watching him from the valley’s peaks was intimidating. Not anymore, though. 

He felt a little more protected knowing that Keith was watching out for him. No one else knew about him, but that didn’t matter. And whenever it was safe to come down, Keith would come and walk beside him, and spend time with him. He had no idea why the dragon liked him so much, but it was a mutual feeling.

Lance pat Keith’s nose once more. “Let’s get going, then.”


	52. Keith/Lance - Soaked

Lance huffed as he wiped his arm over his forehead. It was incredibly hot outside, the kind of heat that made him want to lie down on a wooden floor and never get up. It was oppressive and humid and felt like a second skin on him. Even wearing a straw sunhat and sleeves he still felt like he was getting burned, and he didn’t often get sunburnt, not with his darker skin tone.

But he knew the high temperatures were only temporary, and that when the impending storm hit it would break the heat. He’d been watching the grey clouds come rolling in all morning, and had hoped the rain would come before he’d have to get up and tend to the garden, but obviously it hadn’t. He couldn’t waste hours away lounging around inside, not when he needed to stock food for winter, hence why he was out in the heat pulling weeds and checking which vegetables were ready to harvest.

It was around midday when the rain he’d been waiting for finally arrived. He felt the shift in the wind, one that was like a cool splash of water from a stream. He glanced up from where he was crouched in one of his gardens and glanced towards the sky, from where the wind was coming from. The clouds were dark and heavy, and the low hum of distant thunder was starting up.

He thought he’d have a bit before the rain hit, so he was surprised when he felt a drop hit his upturned nose. A small squeak escaped him as rain began to bucket down, not a drizzle but a downpour.

He clutched at his sunhat and his basket of ripe vegetables as he ran for the shelter of his front porch. By the time he’d vaulted up the stairs, he was soaked to the bone and panting. In the distance he could see lights flicker on at his neighbours’ homes, where some of his family lived. He’d need to turn his on, too. 

“That was quick,” he muttered to himself, watching the storm wide-eyed. His gardens were going to love the water, but he wished he hadn’t gotten soaked.

As he was staring out at the rain, a figure caught his eye. No one in their right mind would be out in the weather like this, not away from home, and yet someone was running down the road leading to his front gate. He squinted, wiping water from his eyes as he tried to get a better look.

“Keith?” he called, when recognition fluttered through him. “Keith!”

The man coming down his front path was familiar. Keith was Lance’s partner, for lack of a better word. They were close in every sense, but they didn’t have a label yet. Keith was often gone, as soldiers were. He couldn’t really control where he went with the Blade. 

But when he was able, Keith always came back to him. Lance’s little farm was Keith’s home, too, for as long as he could stay. He normally sent word ahead that he was expecting some downtime, but Lance hadn’t received a letter recently. 

Keith was holding his bag over his head as he dashed up the porch steps. “Hey,” he said, panting, as he set his bag down. He was just as soaked as Lance was.

“I didn’t know you were coming back,” Lance exclaimed, surprised, as Keith pulled him into a hug. 

“Wanted to surprise you,” Keith murmured into his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “I missed you.”

Warmth bloomed in Lance’s cheeks as he rested his chin on Keith’s shoulder. He clutched at Keith’s back, letting the solidness of Keith settle against him, into his mind. It was always hard to believe that Keith was back with him, at first. It always took a moment to sink in.

“I couldn’t quite beat the rain though,” Keith added.

Lance snorted out an amused laugh. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Keith smiled, squeezing him tighter. They both laughed when water dripped off of them. 

“Maybe we should go inside,” Lance suggested, reluctantly pulling away. 

Keith nodded in agreement.

Lance couldn’t suppress a happy smile. “Welcome home, Keith.”


	53. Keith/Lance - Hover

Lance yawned as he rested against Keith’s side, breathing in the familiar, strong scent of his alpha. Over the past few weeks, Keith’s scent had softened to a degree – a result of their official mating. Lance knew his own scent had shifted, but it was harder to tell with himself. He was more used to scenting Keith, or at least having Keith’s scent on him, since the alpha was quite keen on marking him.

“Are you tired?” Keith asked, his voice quiet.

Lance shook his head. He knew that if Keith got any slight inclination that Lance was unwell, he’d whisk him straight off back home. They were sitting together at a coffee shop, enjoying the nice weather that morning. It was coming up to Keith’s rut – the alpha version of an omega’s heat – and it was the first one since their mating, so Lance wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

He knew that Keith was definitely becoming more protective of him, though. He’d always been that way, even more so when he was in a rut, or when Lance was in heat. He scented Lance more, and was far more attentive to his health. Even the slightest sniffle or cough would prick up Keith’s senses, and Lance would find himself wearing twice as many sweaters as he’d started with.

For the most part, he thought it was nice. He liked Keith’s attentiveness. It was unexpected for Keith, since he normally came off as cold or at least oblivious to those sorts of things. At least to the people who didn’t really know him, anyway. He felt emotions quite deeply, even if he didn’t always know how to express them. He’d gotten better at that, Lance thought.

But his rut always made things unpredictable. It was bound to be different now that they were mated, since their instincts were shifting and changing. Lance could already sense a shift in Keith’s attitude. It wasn’t bad, but he definitely noticed. 

Keith was far more protective of him in public, but not in the same way as before. He didn’t go overboard scenting him, but he did keep Lance close, always putting an arm around his waist or shoulders. He was far more nurturing at home, too; he’d already helped Lance built a nest (though he’d done little more than hover and watch intently), and he was constantly checking that Lance was comfortable, even if he was the one going into rut.

It was sweet. Mating meant that Keith was less worried about defending Lance from other alphas – it was a very instinctual thing, so even if he realistically knew Lance wasn’t going anywhere, it was still something that came through in his behaviour. Now their bond was permanent, and so Keith’s instincts had switched from being overly protective to nurturing. 

“Do you want something to eat?”

Lance didn’t, but he nodded anyway, knowing it would ease Keith’s worries. “Maybe a muffin?”

Keith dropped a thankful kiss to his forehead. “I’ll get it.”


	54. Keith/Lance - Good

“Lance, you don’t have to do this if you’re not ready…”

“I’m not scared,” Lance snapped, defensive, as he held his hands to his chest.

“I know,” Keith said, unfazed. Lance didn’t mean to be snippy, and he was thankful that Keith seemed to understand that. “But what I said still stands. There’s no rush.”

Lance begged to differ. His boyfriend who he loved dearly had a massive dog, so he couldn’t be afraid of them. He wasn’t, before. But he’d been recently attacked by a dog. A stranger’s dog had gotten free of its harness and lunged at him as he’d walked past. He didn’t think the dog truly meant to hurt him – it was overexcited and uncontrollable – but he’d still ended up with a bloody arm and bruised confidence. 

He ran his fingers over the bandages still covering his wounds, anxious. It had been a week, but the fear that had struck him when the dog first lunged hadn’t left yet. His sister had a dog at her house, and his friend Pidge had a dog, and his boyfriend had a dog. He couldn’t be afraid of dogs. That just wouldn’t work.

Keith sighed, and reached for the backdoor’s handle. “Alright, then. But tell me if you need some space, okay? I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“I know,” Lance whispered. Keith had been worried when Lance had rang him from the hospital, and since then, he’d been protective of Lance in ways he wasn’t before. Lance hadn’t gone over to Keith’s house in the last week, and they hadn’t visited the park where people normally walked their dogs off-leash like they usually did. Lance appreciated the consideration. 

But there was no point in letting his unease fester. He liked his sister’s dog, and he liked Pidge’s dog, and he liked Keith’s dog. He didn’t want to avoid them forever, not when he had bonds with the animals. He liked walking them and playing with them. As much as he’d been shaken by the dog attack, he didn’t want it to be something that changed him so drastically.

And the best way to face his fears, he thought, was to literally face them.

Cosmo – Keith’s big dog – was waiting in the backyard for them. He was used to being in the house, and probably didn’t understand why he’d been shut outside for now. Keith had wanted to give Lance a chance to catch his breath before letting Cosmo come back in.

When Keith opened the door, Lance sucked in a quiet breath. Cosmo padded back in, ears pricked curiously. He was a very smart dog, and seemed to sense that something was up, so he simply sat in the doorway and waited to be told a command.

Keith gave Lance a worried look. “Okay?”

Lance swallowed, and nodded. After letting out a breath, he held out his hand to Cosmo, beckoning the dog closer. Cosmo sniffed his hand, then wandered over, sitting on Lance’s feet like he always did to be as close as possible for a scratch. 

He didn’t feel… afraid. It was a bit of a relief, actually. Lance felt a weight drop off his shoulders as he rubbed Cosmo behind the ears. “Good boy,” he whispered.

“All good?” Keith asked.

Lance nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah, I think I’m good. Cosmo is so calm.”

Keith smiled back. “He’s good,” Keith agreed, putting an affectionate hand on Cosmo’s head, whose tongue lolled out as he enjoyed the attention. “Plus he likes you a lot.”

A little, breathy laugh escaped Lance. “Well, I like him too.”


	55. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Howl

Lance pressed a hand over his mouth as a yawn surfaced in his throat. It was just past midnight now, and the forest was starting to get a cold chill that was a touch too much for him to handle without a thicker coat. It wasn’t winter yet, which was fortunate. Sitting out in the snow was not his idea of a good time.

In the distance, he heard the familiar howl of wolves. A small stole its way across his face. He could now confidently tell the howls apart, something that had taken him a lot of time to achieve.

Shiro’s howl was just a little bit deeper, his voice more of a smooth baritone. He had the kind of howl that broke through all other noise, cutting through wind and rustling and the sounds of other night-time animals to echo for a few seconds on its own. Keith’s was rougher, sharper – like the crackle of fire. He added to the noise of the forest, voice rising above everything else to dominate. Keith wasn’t much of a howler – he was content to let Shiro stake their claim on their territory – but his howl was unmissable.

Minutes passed before Lance heard the thundering of paws approaching. He wasn’t a shifter like his mates, so he didn’t fully comprehend their instincts or their traditions, but he was content to wait for them to finish. They had a connection to the moon that he didn’t, in the same way he was connected to the magic in the sea, in a way they couldn’t understand. 

Shiro was the first to appear from between the dark trees, as always. He was easier to see, thanks to a white marking on his head that mirrored the white streak of hair he had in his human form. Unlike Keith, whose fur was entirely black, Shiro’s patch of white marked him out from the darkness of night.

He spotted Lance instantly, like his eyes had never been anywhere else. He padded over to the rock Lance was sitting on to put his nose into Lance’s outstretched hands.

“Have a fun night running around?” Lance teased.

Shiro huffed a breath out as answer. 

From behind him, Keith appeared. He was about a foot shorter than Shiro, but since they both stood well over six feet, it didn’t make too much of a difference. He muscled his way in beside Shiro, sniffing Lance all over. He was more protective than Shiro, and was always restless until he’d satisfied for himself that Lance was okay. 

“Ready to go home?” Lance asked.

Even though his mates had made it clear to him he didn’t have to accompany them on their runs, Lance always did. He couldn’t keep up with them, so he’d sit in a little clearing and wait. There was always something to keep him occupied – usually practicing his magic, or listening for their howls. At the end of their evening, past midnight, they’d come and pick him up.

Keith rubbed his head against Lance’s legs, impatiently turning to the side to present his back. Lance grabbed two careful fistfuls of fur and swung a leg over him, settling comfortably in the dip beneath Keith’s shoulder blades. He cast a quick glance at Shiro, who minutely shook his head. Keith was in a restless mood tonight, so something must have ruffled him. They’d talk about it later, when they weren’t in the middle of the forest.

“Let’s go home then,” Lance said, running a hand over Keith’s side. Keith let out a low rumble, and together, they headed back home.


	56. Lance/Shiro - Icing

“I need a runner!”

Lance winced as he heard the shout come from the kitchen. It was surprisingly busy for a late night shift, and he was not enjoying it. The little diner he worked at was open pretty much twenty-four seven, aside for a few precious hours in the early morning when they were closed for cleaning and restocking and paperwork filing… and, you know, so their workers didn’t have to work compete overnight shifts.

After ducking into the steaming, busy kitchen, Lance grabbed the waiting plates and whisked them off to their appropriate tables. It was nearing eleven o’clock now, but there was no sign of relief waiting for him. Every now and then the diner would have waves and waves of customers out of the blue, for no apparent reason. Even though it was late at night, people were still out and about, as if it was the middle of the day. 

Lance couldn’t say he always hated it, though. There were a lot of interesting people working night shifts who’d come into the diner for their ‘lunch’ breaks, or people who came in because they were night owls. There were always stressed students who came in to study while snacking, or truckers stopping in for a break from the road, or sometimes families driving overnight to a vacation destination. They always had interesting stories to tell, and he liked being around people. 

But, like any job, it could be stressful sometimes. He worked at the diner on the side to help his family, since he still lived at home while he was studying. It was a good job, all things considered.

“Runner!”

He winced again. With only him and one other waitress working that night, there was no time for dawdling. 

It was as he was bringing another round of coffees to a table of workers from an office a block over that his favourite customer popped in. Shiro was a veteran who worked from home for now, recording lectures he taught online to cadets from his old garrison. He came in once a week, and had been doing so for months. Lance was quite fond of him, if he were being honest. If it was a slow night, Lance would join Shiro at his table; he always brought Shiro a complimentary donut, one they split in half to share. He was a sweet man, if a bit shy at first.

“Shiro,” he said, a little embarrassed by the relief in his voice as he went to greet the man. “It’s good to see you.”

Shiro gave him a warm smile as he let the diner’s front door shut behind him. “You too,” he said. “Busy tonight?”

“Just a little.”

“Should I come back later…?”

“No, no.” Lance shook his head. “I saved you a table.”

Shiro smiled again. “For me? You shouldn’t of.”

“Well I did,” Lance teased, as he ushered Shiro towards the table he always sat down at. It was a little booth in the corner, in perhaps one of the more private seats, or at least as private as they could get at the diner. Most people sat at the counter stools, or one of the better lit booths by the windows, but Shiro liked having his back to the wall. He didn’t seem to notice he sat that way, but Lance noticed. “You want the usual?”

“Yes, please.”

“No problem.”

After seeing Shiro seated, Lance darted back into the kitchen to place his order. He always had one of the diner’s sandwiches and a cup of tea, not coffee. Lance also bagged one of the donuts from the front counter display for later. All of the chefs knew he did that, so he was free to leave the donut in the kitchen where he was sure it would stay set aside for him.

As busy as it was, Lance couldn’t help but make a little more time for Shiro. The other waitress on at the moment gave him a knowing look as she helped him round up some of his tables so he would be able to spend his break sitting with Shiro instead of working, like he usually did when it was this busy.

By the time his break did come around, he was ready to be off his feet. Shiro had finished his sandwich and was halfway through his tea, which was the perfect time for a donut. Lance tossed his apron on its rack before snagging said donut and making his way to the table.

Shiro glanced up at him as he collapsed into the booth across the table. “Break time?”

“Finally,” Lance sighed. “I can’t feel my feet.”

Shiro laughed quietly. “It’s really busy tonight.”

“Isn’t it? This happens every now and then.” Lance tore the donut in half and handed Shiro his piece. “How’s the lecturing going?”

“Alright,” Shiro said. Lately work had been positive for him, and Lance liked seeing him that way. “The students are going to be doing the flight simulator test next week, to see if they pass this module or not.”

“You think they will?”

“Well, I hope so. If they don’t they’ll get an earful, that’s for sure.”

Lance laughed. “I’m sure they’ll pass. You’re teaching them, after all.”

Shiro’s cheeks went a little pink as he stuffed a bite of donut into his mouth. “How’s studying?”

“Oh, you know, as tedious as usual.” Lance was studying marine biology with the hopes of working at a marine conservation centre. It was tough but rewarding work, and even though it was study, he liked it. “I’m hoping to get an internship at Altea – you know that research centre down by the harbour?”

Shiro nodded.

“There. I like the work they do with animals – you know, catch and release. They take in a lot of injured sea animals and rehabilitate them. We went there for a field study and watched them operate on a fish that needed a tumour removed.”

“Wow.” Shiro’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t know they did things like that.”

Lance grinned. “It’s cool, right?”

“Very.”

Lance felt all warm inside. Talking with Shiro never felt difficult or awkward. It was strange how open he felt with the man, but he wouldn’t have changed a thing. Not only was Shiro handsome, but he was kind too, and Lance was easily infatuated. Sometimes he wondered what it was about Shiro that made him so alluring, made him so magnetic.

Lance guessed there was just something very charming about a man with donut icing smeared on the corner of his lips.


	57. Keith/Lance - Veil

Lance wasn’t meant to have seen Keith. Apparently, humans only ever saw through the Veil – the bridge between the mortal and immortal realms – when they were close to death, and even then, only a small fraction of people did. It had been months since then, and Lance wasn’t dead yet.

Keith seemed to think it was a weird quirk of the Veil. “It happens sometimes, I think,” he explained once, as he lounged around Lance’s kitchen like he owned the place. “Probably.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

Keith had only shrugged, his leathery wings flicking out behind him. “Well you’re not dead, are you? Normally humans that can see me die within a few weeks, and it’s been longer than that. You’re just different.”

“Great.”

Truth be told, it was difficult getting on with life with a demon following him around. No one else could see Keith, at least no one he knew, so it was hard to talk to him, or respond to him in public. Lance had embarrassed himself a dozen times when people had caught him arguing with thin air.

But, oddly enough, Lance had become quite used to having Keith around. He himself was a bit of a rare anomaly for the demon; Keith wasn’t used to being seen, and he didn’t like hanging around with other demons, so he liked being around Lance. Sometimes only to bother him, but other times to genuinely sate his curiosity.

And Lance was curious, too. Now that he no longer thought he was crazy, he’d accidentally ingested bad mushrooms, or was on the verge of death, he found himself interested in everything about Keith. He knew nothing of demons, and Keith was willing to talk about it, since Lance told him a lot about humans, too. 

For the most part, it seemed like demons roamed around doing whatever caught their attention. The ones on the mortal plane, anyway. They harvested lost souls and ferried information through the Veil and looked for people who were about to die. They liked to mess with humans whenever they could, but Keith wasn’t like that. He’d once said he was a lot more subdued than the other demons he’d met – he didn’t care about making humans miserable, and was content to wander around doing his own thing. He did ferry on lost souls when he came across them, but he didn’t do typically demonic things.

Lance supposed that was fortunate for him, since Keith was quite persistent on following him around. He couldn’t complain much, since he liked Keith. There was something charming about him, even if he wasn’t quite sure what that was. And as much as he was interested in humanity, he was clearly interested in Lance specifically, as well. He could’ve gone off to find someone else to hover around, even someone from the immortal realm, but he didn’t want to leave Lance. 

He didn’t even go when Lance was sleeping, even though he didn’t need to sleep at all.

Plus it was nice to have someone watching out for him. Lance was living by himself for the first time in his life, so he sometimes forgot to do things he’d never had to do for himself, like going to bed at a reasonable time and making sure to get the mail and taking out the bins at the end of the week. 

It had only taken Keith a week to learn Lance’s schedule, and since then he’d been a dutiful reminder. He could interact with mortal things, so sometimes Lance would wake up with his blankets freshly tucked around him, or the kettle already set to boil. Or if he fell asleep on the sofa, he’d wake up and the television and lights would be off, and the doors would be locked. 

When it really came down to it, he was sure he would miss Keith if the demon were to suddenly disappear. He liked Keith’s company, liked learning from him and teaching him things. It was interesting to see humans from Keith’s perspective.

He would definitely be upset if Keith were to go.

Perhaps he liked Keith a bit too much, but Keith liked him too, so it didn’t matter.


	58. Keith/Lance - Avian

There was a strange scent in the air that morning. Lance usually kept his bedroom windows open while he slept, so the cool morning air woke him. A breeze ruffled through his feathers as he stirred, stretching his wings out far behind him, far enough to make them quiver. A strange prickle went down his spine.

He couldn’t quite tell what the problem was, so he tried to put it from his mind. His home was as quiet, as it had been lately. His mate had been away for a short time now, leaving him alone in their house. Lance was quite unused to the quiet, since he’d grown up in a home with a lot of nestmates. He had two brothers and two sisters, and although he was the youngest, his siblings were always around during his childhood.

He went about his day as usual. Like most avians, his home had been built in one of the incredibly thick trees in the surrounding forest; it was strong enough to hold the house, with many homes built into the trunk itself, once it had been hollowed. Lance liked their little home, even when it came to chores. 

During the middle of the day, he ventured out onto the branch that functioned as their front entrance. It was a good branch, he thought. He was quite vain about his home – many avians were, though his mate wasn’t fussed. He thought the tree was perfect for what they needed, and it was in a very secure spot. Good for weathering storms and high winds.

Perhaps that was what was setting him on edge. His feathers tended to stand up and ruffle at unexpected times like goose bumps when a bad storm was coming. As he sat out at the little table and chairs set at the front entrance, he cast his eyes up to the sky. There weren’t any clouds, but the sky wasn’t its normal bright blue. That probably meant a storm was coming.

His mood was still poor when his mate unexpectedly arrived home, though seeing Keith had him brightening. He’d been sure Keith wouldn’t return for a few more days, so he was relieved to hear the powerful beating of his mate’s wings as he arrived. 

“Keith?”

“I’m home.” Keith’s big, black-feathered wings were all fluffed up from flying as he stepped into their home. He looked slightly damp, which confused Lance. “There’s a bit of rain on the horizon,” Keith explained, at Lance’s inquiring head tilt. “There might be a storm later tonight.”

“Ah.” Lance’s nerves settled. “I thought there might be.”

“Get a strange vibe this morning?”

Lance nodded, humming. “There was an unusual smell in the air.”

Keith came to stand beside Lance, leaning closer to press his nose into Lance’s hair. He carried the scent of rain with him, something that was cold and refreshing, mixed just faintly with his own natural scent. Lance let himself rest against Keith’s chest, tucking his wings in close to his back so that Keith could fold his larger ones around them. 

“I missed you,” Lance whispered.

“I missed you too.”

“Did you end up finding Shiro?”

Keith hummed. He’d been gone to visit someone he considered a brother. Shiro and his mate Curtis were trying to find a home for themselves, but it was challenging. Keith was trying to convince them to fly closer to their own home, since he agreed with Lance in saying their part of the forest was quite safe and neighbourly. Much of Lance’s family was nearby, as well as friends they shared with Shiro. 

“They’d going to be flying closer soon,” he explained. “Now that they’re mated, they’re a little more willing to move away from Curtis’s childhood home. Curtis is eager to start their life together, so Shiro is scrambling to please him.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I bet he’s flustered, huh?”

An amused smile twitched at the corner of Keith’s lips.

Outside, a ripple of distant thunder made Lance jump. Keith tightened his grip around him, his wings pushing in closer, enveloping Lance in a curtain of black.

“Definitely going to storm,” Lance said.

Keith nodded in agreement.


	59. Keith/Lance - Later

While it wasn’t a normal occurrence, sometimes Lance stayed up later than Keith. They usually went to bed at the same time, since Lance liked to get his beauty sleep and Keith was an early riser. Sometimes, if Keith was particularly restless, he’d stay up a little while longer. Lance was the same, though perhaps for different reasons.

That evening, he’d stayed awake for longer than Keith. He was expecting a call from his sister, who was overseas, so he waited up to talk to her. After that, it was well into the night, and he needed a little while to unwind and relax so that he wouldn’t toss and turn in bed.

When he finally did go to bed, he knew something wasn’t quite right. In the years he’d been sharing a bed with Keith, he’d become quite used to the way his boyfriend slept. He was a quiet sleeper, one who hardly stirred from the minute he closed his eyes to the moment he opened them again. He didn’t dream often, at least not in a particularly memorable way, and he didn’t really fidget all that much. Lance was almost jealous of that.

But there were times when Keith’s sleep was restless. 

Tonight seemed like one of those nights. Lance carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, not wanting to disturb his boyfriend too much. Waking him up abruptly could disorientating, and he didn’t want to do that.

Instead, he carefully set his fingers in Keith’s hair, carding through the tangles as gently as he could. “Keith,” he whispered, trailing his knuckles down to Keith’s cheek. There was a harsh furrow in Keith’s brow, and a downturn of his lips. He let out a muffled, unhappy groan.

Lance wasn’t sure what he had nightmares over. Keith never really wanted to talk about it, at least not yet, and Lance didn’t want to push him. They’d talked about why Keith didn’t want to share any of it – he’d said it made him feel weak, or too open. Vulnerability was important in a relationship, especially when such deep emotions were concerned, and Keith was getting better at letting himself be exposed like that. That’s why Lance wouldn’t push him to explain what his nightmares were about, even if he did encourage Keith to interrogate his feelings of weakness. 

Sharing his feelings didn’t make him weak.

But he was understanding that, now. 

“Wake up, Keith,” Lance whispered again. He knew he didn’t have to be loud to wake his boyfriend. After a moment, Keith jolted into wakefulness, his eyes opening with a shallow gasp. “You’re alright,” Lance said, putting his hand on Keith’s shoulder to stop him from bolting upright. “Just a nightmare.”

The wildness in Keith’s eyes took a moment to settle. “Lance?” he croaked.

“Just me. Feeling alright?”

Keith swallowed, wetting his dry lips. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I’m just coming to bed now.”

Keith pursed his lips.

Lance slipped under the covers, putting one arm over Keith to drag him closer. He came willingly, which was unlike him – usually he liked to do the hugging. Lance was more than happy to be the supporting one for once.

“Want to talk about it?” he offered.

Keith shook his head, hiding his face in the crook of Lance’s neck. “Just want to sleep.”

Lance hummed. He ran his fingers down Keith’s spine, feeling Keith soften against him with every pass. “Try and get some rest, then.”

Keith murmured something unintelligible, his eyes closing.

Lance stayed awake until he was sure Keith was sleeping, before drifting off himself.


	60. Lance/Shiro - Strong

Lance was used to not being the strongest person in the room. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t strong, since he did had a bit of lean muscle on him. Just not as much as other people.

Take his father, for example. His dad was always working out on their farm, or on their cars, or fixing things around the house. He had muscles from that, and even though he was older now, he was still pretty tough. Lance’s older brothers were tough, too, though Luis more so than Marco since he took after their father a lot. Not to mention he was a father himself, and he was always lifting his kids up and carrying their prams when they were younger and things like that.

Lance’s closest friend was strong, too. His best friend, Hunk, was the gentlest giant. He could lift Lance up with one arm like it was nothing. His little cousins were always hanging off his arms, and Hunk never wavered. He did a lot of engineering and mechanic work, so it was no wonder he was as built as he was. Next to him, Lance looked impossibly lean, even though he wasn’t.

Even Lance’s attractive neighbour, Shiro, was stronger than him. He was much taller, and broader in the shoulders. Lance definitely had a thing for his muscles, even though that might be because he just had a thing for Shiro in general. He’d seen Shiro head out for a run every now and then, and boy was it a drool-worthy sight. How could a sweaty man look so attractive? Lance wasn’t going to think about it too much. 

So he was rather surprised when he had a moment to be the strongest person around.

He and Shiro were walking up the stairs to their apartment. The elevator was getting repaired that month, so they had a three-story hike ahead of them. Lance didn’t complain about it though, since it meant he could talk to Shiro more. His neighbour had just been out to the doctor’s, since he had a persistent sniffle that turned out to be a cold.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Lance asked, as they ascended the stairs together. “I can bring over some food, if you want.”

Shiro gave him a small smile. “Yeah I’m alright, just tired. Thank you.”

Lance wasn’t convinced. Shiro usually had a lot more energy, and he usually had some colour to his face. 

As it turned out, Lance was worried for a reason. He was staring at Shiro’s face, so he noticed when Shiro’s eyes suddenly fluttered, his expression going blank. Lance leapt forwards to catch him as he stumbled, tipping backwards half a step.

“Shiro?” Lance exclaimed.

Shiro let out a confused noise. He was only out for a second, but he was like dead weight in Lance’s arms, one hand holding tight onto Lance’s shoulder. “What?”

“You are definitely not alright,” Lance said, pushing Shiro upright without letting go of him. He slipped an arm around Shiro’s waist as he helped him up the stairs. “Come on, I’m getting you to bed.”

“You’re strong,” Shiro said, sounding spaced out and awed.

Lance’s cheeks went red. He was struggling a little to hold Shiro’s weight up, since he seemed entirely dead on his feet, but he kept that to himself. 

“No, really, you are,” Shiro continued, eyes wide. “I’m kind of surprised, actually.”

“In a good or bad way?”

“So good.”

Lance tried not to choke on air. He felt like melting into a puddle. “Let’s get you inside,” he repeated, his face hot.


	61. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Medicine

Lance wiggled his bare toes, frowning at them as he drifted in thought. It was only because he was sitting down in the reclining armchair with the footrest out that he could see them. He was only a month and a half away from giving birth, and he felt fit to bursting. It wasn’t uncomfortable, when he was sitting like this. It was nice, actually. He sort of just felt disconnected from his legs.

“Everything alright there?”

“Just fine,” Lance answered, his eyes briefly flickering towards Shiro, who was peering in from the kitchen doorway. “I’m just thinking to myself.”

Shiro folded his arms across his chest as he leaned against the doorway, an amused tilt flitting at the corner of his mouth. “Something important?”

“Not really.” Lance wiggled his toes again.

Shiro snorted, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Lance returned to his frowning stare, one hand absentmindedly smoothing over his rounded stomach. His baby was rather settled today, which he was thankful for. Not a single kick disturbed him. Some days the baby never stopped kicking, and it left Lance uneasy and irritable. It was hard to sleep when he had a pup kicking at his ribs. Not to mention he didn’t want to sleep beside his mates when that happened, since whoever he faced would feel the kicks, too.

“Hey, Shiro?”

“Yeah?”

“When’s Keith getting home?”

“Not for another hour at least,” Shiro answered from the kitchen.

Lance sighed, a little put out. His pregnancy had him going through phases where he didn’t want his mates out of his sight, but he’d thought he’d moved past them now that he was nearing his due date. Apparently not.

Shiro must have smelt discomfort on Lance’s scent, because he appeared in the doorway again, expression concerned. “You alright?”

“Just… feeling weird,” Lance said. Shiro nodded in understanding. When Lance started getting hit with waves of omega hormones early into his pregnancy, he’d often found himself at a loss when it came to why he was feeling like he was. He’d sometimes be struck with the inextricable urge to scent his alphas like he was worried another omega was preying on them, or he’d get upset if they had to leave him for more than a few hours, even though he knew it was irrational.

He wasn’t that bad anymore, but he still got a weird feeling every now and then. ‘Weird’ was the only word he could think of to describe it.

“Do you want some tea?” Shiro offered.

“Yes please.”

A few minutes passed before Shiro returned with two mugs in hand. He passed one into Lance’s grip and then squeezed his way onto the seat beside him. It was a large armchair, but that was still difficult, given Shiro’s general alpha size and Lance’s belly.

“Don’t you have to make dinner?” Lance asked, worried. “I didn’t mean to interrupt…”

“Dinner can wait,” Shiro said, slipping one arm around Lance to rub at his shoulder. “Besides, it’ll be better when Keith is home to help, right? Can’t have his dinner going cold.”

Lance nodded in agreement. If there was anything he hated more than having his mates leave him when he was like this, it was the idea of them going without. He’d been driven to whole house cleaning sprees thinking that he wasn’t pulling his weight while they worked, and some days he’d spent hours cooking meals in advance for them, wanting them to stay healthy and happy and well-fed. 

Perhaps it was a little devious of Shiro to play on Lance’s emotions like that, but Lance was fully aware of what he was doing. In any case, it worked. Lance settled against Shiro’s side and took a long sip of tea.

Shiro’s fingers travelled up to his hair, making a low, pleased murmur come from Lance’s throat. Like usual, Shiro’s scent was calm and protective, and it was enough to ease Lance’s concerns. It was the same with Keith, of course, because his scent was just as delightful, but Shiro had a way of calming both his mates down that neither one of them could replicate. Shiro could hold his temper under almost any circumstance, and never let any negative emotions bleed into his scent. It meant that both Lance and Keith always had a safe point to return to, always had somewhere to calm them, and soothe them – namely, the crook of Shiro’s neck.

“An hour, you said?” Lance whispered.

“Maybe a bit less.”

Lance hummed. Keith had a dog, Cosmo, who needed very specific vet care, something the average veterinary clinic couldn’t provide. He was a massive dog, and had a bit of wolf blood in him, though his temperament was quite tame. Regardless, there was a specific vet about a forty minute drive away that took care of Cosmo. Keith had taken him there earlier that day.

He knew it was important for Cosmo to see the vet, and Keith had only been gone for a couple of hours now, but Lance was starting to miss him like crazy. Not to mention he missed Cosmo, too. The dog had grown on him. There was something undeniably comforting about having a dog at home, especially when he knew his mates were out.

Lance took his time finishing his tea. Shiro stayed with him the whole time, gently carding his fingers through his hair. When he was done, he passed Shiro his empty mug. “I think I might lie down for a little while,” he said.

“Alright.” Shiro took the mug, and helped Lance up from the armchair. “Bed or sofa?”

“Sofa.” Lance didn’t have to say that he wanted to be nearby when Keith came home. Going up and down the stairs was hard for him, so he’d rather stay downstairs for now.

After sitting back down on the longer sofa, Lance made himself comfortable, crooning again when Shiro tucked him in with the throw blanket.

“I’ll get started on dinner again, alright? And I’ll wake you when Keith is home,” he said.

“Thanks,” Lance mumbled around a yawn, already on the verge of sleep. 

Shiro bent to press a kiss to his forehead, before wandering back off into the kitchen.

Lance dozed, unable to fully sleep, but felt rested nevertheless. He didn’t wake up to Keith coming home, like he’d expected he would. Instead, he woke when he felt a familiar, furry head rest itself ever so gently against his stomach. 

As he opened his eyes, he found Cosmo staring at him, whining softly. The dog had become just as protective of him as his owner had, and Lance found it endlessly endearing. Cosmo was so gentle with him, and Lance had no worries about the dog being around his child after they were born.

“Cosmo,” Lance greeted, reaching out a hand to pat the dog’s head. “Where’s Keith?”

“In the kitchen, Lance.”

He perked up at the sound of his mate’s voice. It was a bit of a struggle to push himself upright, one that had Cosmo’s ears lifting in a look that could only be worry, but he managed. He waddled more than walked into the kitchen, where Keith and Shiro were both by the stove, one turning off the burners and the other dishing out food.

“You’re back,” he said, smiling.

Keith abandoned the stove for a moment in order to pull Lance into his arms. He nuzzled against Lance’s temple, spreading his scent. “Sorry for taking so long.”

“It’s okay.” Lance smiled, scenting Keith in return. “Dinner smells good.”

“It’s just about ready,” Shiro said. “Why don’t you two sit at the table? I’ll bring the plates over.”

Already Lance’s uneasiness was fading, as if it never existed. Having his little family altogether was the best medicine for anything.


	62. Keith/Lance - Duelling

A lot of people didn’t understand why Lance had been sorted into Ravenclaw. He wasn’t exactly the smartest when it came to books, not compared to other Ravenclaws, but he was pretty brainy. He was generally in the top five of his classes when it came to exams or homework, so it wasn’t like he was dim. 

When he really thought about it, he guessed he didn’t act like the average Ravenclaw. He studied a lot, sure, but he was pretty carefree about classes and socialising. A lot of Ravenclaws spent their free time learning or studying, since they actually liked it and enjoyed learning new things, but Lance was more of a social butterfly. He interacted with all the other houses, and wasn’t afraid to explore every inch of the castle, even if that meant having less time for homework.

In any case, he was proud of his house alignment. His family was sort of scattered when it came to the houses – his sister, Veronica, was a Ravenclaw too, but his brother Luis was a Gryffindor, and Rachel and Marco were Hufflepuffs, like their father. Only his mother was a Slytherin, which seemed almost at odds with her caring and homely personality, but Lance knew it was because she was loyal to a fault, and cunning when needed.

Come to think of it, his closest friends were in other houses, too. He’d grown up with a boy named Hunk as his closest friend, and in their first year, Hunk had been sorted into Hufflepuff. They met and became close friends with a Slytherin, Pidge. 

Even Keith wasn’t a Ravenclaw – he was from Gryffindor, which suited him perfectly. He was brave and stubborn and all the things a strong Gryffindor was. Lance never thought he’d be attracted to those traits, and yet here he was.

None of their friends knew that he and Keith were a… thing. Something. Lance didn’t quite know what kind of thing they were, but there was definitely a thing between them. He didn’t really want to name it yet, because it felt good like it was. Vulnerable, and fragile, but good.

Ravenclaw and Gryffindor shared a few classes – Defence Against the Dark Arts being Lance’s favourite of them. Their teacher, Professor Shirogane, liked to pair up opposite house members when it came to practice duelling, so Lance and Keith were often partners. 

That was maybe what had brought them together. They’d known each other for years, but hadn’t gotten along at first. It was different now, obviously. Their competitiveness had taken on an edge of affection that no one else had seemed to notice. Duelling wasn’t a chance to one-up the other anymore, but a chance to play, too. Shiro had told the class not to keep score, but… he and Keith definitely did. 

“I definitely would’ve beaten you today if you hadn’t gotten that last spell in,” Lance complained, as he and Keith walked across the empty grounds, wrapped up in their cloaks and house scarves. It was cold at this time of year, but not quite yet time for snow to fall. Luckily for them, it was close enough to dinner time that there were no students outside of the castle. 

“No way,” Keith argued. “I was winning from the start.”

Lance snorted. He would never admit it, but Keith had done well in class today. He’d started off strong and ended that way, too. If Lance wasn’t so competitive he would’ve been completely enthralled by Keith’s duelling style. 

An amused look crossed Keith’s face as he slung an arm around Lance’s shoulders. “Maybe you’ll win next time,” he teased.

Lance just grinned. Keith wasn’t a very touchy person, but lately he’d been growing more used to physical affection, and sought it out when he wanted it. Even an arm around Lance’s shoulders felt like a special thing from Keith, and Lance couldn’t help but lean into him, pleased. It helped that they were out here by themselves because it felt private. Safe, almost. 

“When do you think it’s going to start snowing?” Lance asked. Snow meant they would have to find somewhere else to spend time alone. They’d once come across the Room of Requirement, but finding it again was tricky. Maybe they could go searching for it.

“In a week or two, maybe,” Keith answered, glancing up at the sky. His fingers squeezed Lance’s shoulder once, just gently. He knew Lance wasn’t fond of the snow. He liked warmer weather, and the sun, like what he’d grown up with in Cuba as a child.

“Hopefully it waits a little longer,” Lance said. He liked their walks outside on the grounds, and would miss them when it was too cold to go.

Keith squeezed his shoulder again, offering a small smile. “Hopefully.”


	63. Keith/Lance - Heartache

The noisiest part of the day was, unsurprisingly, not the evening. It was not when the nobles and royals feasted, or when the wealthy flooded the castle for balls and galas. It was not when horse-drawn carriages galloped up the driveway, or when heeled shoes clacked against the polished floors, or when precious china clinked together amidst the chatter of a crowd.

No, the noisiest part was the morning, when the castle’s inhabitants were fast asleep, worn out from the festivities of the night before. The opening of dawn was when the force of the castle woke: the bakers, the bread makers, the maids and butlers, the stable hands and messenger boys, the ladies in waiting and the seamstresses. 

It was the time of day Lance usually liked the most. There was nothing enjoyable at waking up with the sun, but being in the chaos of the morning was like being thrown into the sea. He liked the feeling of waves around him, liked the atmosphere of so many people around him. They were like a family, he and all the servants. Even if they were each from different faculties, they all mixed and dined together, told stories together, slept in the same dormitories. Many, like him, were far from home earning a living to send back to their families, so to have those familial bonds with each other was a comfort like any other.

Lance himself worked as a tailor. He was good with sewing, good with embroidery. There were only two males in the seamstress faculty, him and another boy whose slender fingers were dexterous enough to handle the small sewing needles. Lance’s skills had been taught to him by his grandmother, who could craft anything out of fabric and thread. 

He liked his job, for the most part. Most of the customers he worked with didn’t treat him poorly, since he was less of a servant and more of a service. Much of his work was done away from the customer, too, since they were only needed to take measurements and to approve the work in stages. He often found himself fixing suits and adjusting waistcoats, or creating delicate embroidery on gowns and camisoles. Most of the day he was in the sewing room with the other seamstresses, measuring out bolts of fabric, spooling thread, designing new dresses for the wealthiest of nobles.

But the morning, however, saw him in the throng with the rest of servants. The seamstresses and tailors had to move through the large kitchen and storage rooms to get to their supplies, and carry them up to the sewing room. They’d also eat their breakfast in the small, adjacent hall next to the kitchen, where all the servants crammed in to get their first meal of the day. They certainly didn’t eat as well as the nobles and royals, but the cooks always gave them the freshest bread, and it was better than what a lot of the poor had to eat, since all produce coming into the castle was fresh.

There was perhaps only one event that was louder than the morning, and that was the arrival of the garrison.

To be fair, the sound of a hundred soldiers marching back into the castle wearing full armour was bound to be noisy. As silent as the soldiers themselves were, their armour made noise, as did the horses the generals rode and the supply carts trailing at the back of the parade. It was a strange sound they made, Lance thought. One that was rhythmic and hypnotizing. It seemed impossible that so many people could move completely as one, but they did.

Lance, like most of the people at the castle, always paused in their work to watch the parade return. The castle had a training ground and barracks for the royal guard to live. It was customary to greet them, so the castle servants and even members of the noble and royal classes stood outside the castle entrance to watch the parade enter.

More than most, Lance perhaps had a different reason to watch. Not many of the soldiers had partners among the castle staff, since they often left. But Lance had a partner among them.

Keith was one of the higher ranked soldiers. He was highly skilled with a blade, and reluctant to socialise with people, no matter their rank or class. But he and Lance got along. Not always, but now they did. A small number of seamstresses were assigned to a separate task each time the parade returned – repairing their clothing. They could do little for armour, but they had skills to repair what was worn underneath the armour. The previous year, Lance had been assigned to fix Keith’s clothing, and over time, the two of them had grown close.

Every time Keith left with the garrison, Lance found himself full of heartache. He worried for Keith’s safety, even though he was confident in Keith’s skills. And he missed Keith a lot. The two of them were very competitive with one another, but very tender, too. They were opposites and it worked.

The garrison were due to arrive back in the next few days. Lance grew more and more restless with every passing hour. His co-workers could see it in him, and teased him, but treated him carefully too. While they teased and made him flush, they also put a little extra food on his plate, gave him a little moment to himself if they caught him staring out of one of the castle windows.

It was hard having a loved one in the garrison. As different as soldiers and servants were, they were both beneath the upper class, and at the castle, they dined together and slept in adjacent dormitories. All servants had seen soldiers with wounds, soldiers covered in blood. Had seen soldiers only partially return, or some not return at all. 

He knew Keith could come back. Keith had promised he would.

But that didn’t stop Lance from worrying. How could he not, when he had no idea what was happening with the garrison? He tried to keep it from his mind. It was easier to focus on the good things – like the weight of Keith’s arms around his waist when they slept, or the way Keith’s hair flicked up after he’d bathed, or the way he always put a little more on Lance’s plate when they ate together.

He was sweet, under the cold exterior most people saw. He treated Lance preciously, and made him smile. 

He was worth the worry, and worth the wait.


	64. Keith/Lance - Unlocked

Lance’s neighbour wasn’t good at controlling his magic. They lived in a shitty apartment block with no magic insulation, so sometimes it bled through the walls if someone wasn’t concentrating enough. Once the little old lady on the floor above him had turned his kettle on four times without realising it (and had then complained that hers was broken). Another time, a student who was living in the apartment down the hall had accidentally blown all the front doors open in their haste to get to a class they’d slept through. 

Even Lance did it, sometimes. A better built place would’ve installed insulation to keep magic localised, but that was pricey. Places to live were cheaper to rent without them, so to save a bit of money, he’d chosen to deal with the magic bleed coming from his neighbours. They had to deal with his too, after all.

But his neighbour was a little out of control. Lance had a neighbour on each side, but he only knew the one – a man named Keith, who was about the same age as Lance, though significantly less socially inclined. 

His magic was strong. Lance didn’t hear much from him during the day, but sometimes at night, his magic would go wild. Lance had been woken up by all the books on his shelf levitating several feet up in the air, or by his teacups dancing around like they were in a musical, or by all his lights turning on at once. Most of the time those sorts of things happened at night, which made them all the more frustrating.

That night, Lance woke when his blanket decided it wanted to start flying. He laid on his bare mattress with a frown on his face, watching his blanket hover just out of arm’s reach above him. He waited a few moments to see what would happen – sometimes the magic would stop – but the blanket remained infuriatingly out of reach.

A quick glance at his clock told him it was almost three in the morning. Who was practicing magic this late? A tired wave of annoyance washed over him. He kicked himself out of bed and padded into the lounge room, only to find most of his light-weight belongings up in the air, just as his blanket had been. Books, loose papers, dishes he’d left on the coffee table, candles, photo frames… all of it floated in the air, bobbing there as if gravity had been turned off. Lance could feel the tingle of magic coming from Keith’s apartment and it made him groan.

“Great,” he muttered to himself. This had gone on for too long.

After shoving his feet into slippers, he exited his apartment, and went to knock on Keith’s door. He expected to have to wake up Keith through the door, but instead the door swung inwards, its lock clicking open by itself.

Frowning, he edged inside. Keith’s apartment was bare, though it had the same layout as Lance’s. Most of Keith’s belongings, as scant as they were, were floating in the air. 

“Keith,” he called out.

No response. 

Lance looked around, but couldn’t see him. The lights were off, so he must not have been awake. 

A small sound came from the direction of the bedroom. Lance paused, but then headed towards the bedroom. He waved his hand as he did, dispelling Keith’s magic in order to send everything back to its proper place. For as strong as Keith’ magic was, it was easy to dispel, which surprised Lance. Maybe Keith had become used to sensing Lance’s magic, and therefore his magic wasn’t rejecting Lance’s, or becoming defensive.

He found Keith in his bedroom, curled up on his bed fast asleep. There was a deep frown on his face, one that wavered as another wave of magic pulsed out of him, sending his blankets rippling like an agitated animal. 

Lance got a little twinge in his heart. Was Keith having a nightmare? It was uncommon, but some people’s magic went out of control when they had bad dreams. That might be why Keith’s magic bled out at night so much. Lance felt bad for getting frustrated.

“Keith,” Lance whispered, letting his magic brush against Keith’s face, just gently.

Keith jolted, his eyes flying open. Anything floating that Lance hadn’t put back went crashing back into their places. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” Lance explained, using his magic to right Keith’s wobbling bedside lamp. “Your magic was bleeding into my apartment.”

“Sorry.” Keith swallowed, looking unusually vulnerable. He was normally quite stoic, but right then he looked almost frightened.

“Are you okay?”

Keith didn’t answer. 

Lance beckoned in a glass of water from the kitchen and set it down on the bedside table. He used his magic to pull Keith’s blankets back into place. “This isn’t the first time this happened,” he said.

Again, Keith didn’t reply.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Lance continued. “Sorry for just coming in. Your door unlocked for me.”

Keith winced, his cheeks flushing a faint red. 

“If this happens again, I’ll come and wake you up, okay?”

Keith snagged his wrist before he could turn away. “Thanks,” he whispered. “Sorry to bother you.”

Lance offered him a small smile. “It’s no bother.” It was a little, but he wasn’t going to say that. Maybe he’d get to know Keith a bit more this way.


	65. Keith/Lance - College

Lance was so attuned to the sound of Keith’s footsteps on the gravel drive out the front that he could hear him coming before he even reached the doorstep. He was full of restless energy, waiting for that knock. 

“Professor,” he called up the large entry staircase, his eyes glued to the door down the narrow hall, “I’ll be going out this evening with some boys from the town. Is that alright?”

The Professor appeared at the top of the stairs, a disapproving frown on his withered face. He was strict and uncaring, and unafraid to punish the boys at the college for the slightest infraction of code. Lance, however, was finally old enough to be allowed time out of the college once a week. Like the boys in the class above him, and the ones who had come before him, he’d quickly learned that going into town with others their age was the best way to spend their leisure time. It felt a little rebellious, in ways, because much of what they did would certainly be banned on college grounds.

Like kissing other boys, for example.

Though perhaps only Lance did that.

The Professor didn’t stop him, though his distasteful, disapproving stare bored holes into the back of Lance’s head as he made for the front door. Keith knocked before he reached it, and Lance was grinning as he pulled it open. 

Keith wasn’t from the college, evidently. He was well-dressed, with a smart jacket and clean boots, but compared to the college uniform Lance wore he looked decidedly less so. There was a certain roughness to his exterior that Lance found charming. He wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, since he came off as quite stoic-faced and ill-tempered, but Lance knew better. He and Keith had gotten into a lot of trouble over the months they’d known each other, mostly due to their highly competitive personalities, but it was good. He didn’t regret any of it.

He did regret having to hide his affection for Keith, though. Dating other boys wasn’t an accepted thing – it was taboo, a sin. If any of the professors at the college found out, he’d surely be expelled, and all the hard-earned money his family paid to send him there for a decent education would be for nothing. 

When Lance had graduated from college, had found a place to settle for his adult life – a job, or some such sense of security – then he would no longer hide his deep affection for Keith. He would not keep friends or company with people who didn’t accept him for who he was, even if that person loved someone of the same gender as him. Keith was worth the sacrifice.

“Ready to go?” Keith asked, as they all but sprinted down the long gravel drive of the college, itching to edge out of the shadow the old manor cast. 

There was a vehicle idling by the front gate, one with an open back where the boys and girls going into town could sit. It was one of the old farmer’s trucks from further down the road; his eldest son drove it, who was the boy currently sitting behind the wheel. A few of their friends were already in the back – a girl who was more boyish than all of them, Pidge, was with Allura, who came from a wealthy but kind family. Hunk, Lance’s friend from childhood and college, was already waiting, already deep in a discussion with Pidge, whose intelligence far surpassed her age and social class.

“As ready as ever,” Lance said, unable to stop grinning as he and Keith swung up into the back of the truck, leaning against the sides to keep steady as it began to rumble down the road. “Plans for this evening?”

A secretive smirk twitched at the corner of Keith’s lips. It only took a moment for the manor to be out of view, thanks to the line of tall oaks separating the college’s fence from the road, so Keith wasted no time in throwing his arm around Lance’s shoulder, pulling him close. “Same as usual,” he said. 

That meant dinner together, a trip to see whatever show or display was going on in the town that night if there was one, and then lastly a jaunt down to the nearby river, where a thick forest padded with soft grass was the perfect place for a group of teenagers to have privacy. They’d do things they’d normally get into trouble for – Pidge would swap her skirts for trousers, and Allura would be unafraid of getting her dress dirty or letting her hair out, and Keith and Lance were free to be as affectionate as they wished.

“Sounds good to me,” Lance said.

Keith matched his grin.


	66. Keith/Lance - Doorway

Keith pressed his back to the wall, dagger held close to his chest. His breathing sounded loud in his own ears, so he lifted his bandana higher around his neck, covering his chin and lips. The corridor was dark, and there was an incessant dripping coming from somewhere, but it masked the sound of blood dripping from his dagger, so he tolerated it.

The adjacent corridor was empty, so he rounded the corner, and made his way down it. He could feel strange ripples of magic in the air, and when he closed his eyes to focus on them, he could sense which way was the right way to go. Underneath the mess of signatures at the facility, one was deeply familiar to him. That was the one he was chasing.

He rounded another corridor, but quickly backed up as he heard rapid footsteps. There was a tense moment before a quartet of lightly jogging soldiers passed, heading down the corridor he’d previously stepped into. He breathed out, shaky, and adjusted his bandana again, pushing onwards.

Eventually the corridor widened into a doorway. There was no door, and he could see well into the next room, despite the low lighting. He knew better than to enter, though. Magic was a tricky, mischievous thing; it could be there when it didn’t look like it, and not when it did. He wasn’t exactly proficient in the ways of magic, not like Lance was, but he had a decent amount of knowledge and skill. Enough to get by.

He edged in front of the doorway, and carefully held the tip of his dagger where a door would’ve been if there was one. There was a small hissing sound, a spark of energy as a ripple went through the doorway. He put his palm to the hilt of his dagger and applied pressure, pressing it forwards through the doorway an inch or two. The ripple expanded, pulsing like a heartbeat. The tip of his dagger began to glow with a faint, purple flame. A curtain of light flashed like a lit line of black powder as the magic in the doorway was abruptly dispelled.

When he entered, nothing happened, and he made a reminder to himself to thank Lance for enchanting his daggers with dispelling magic. He hadn’t been sure if it would ever come in handy when Lance had done it, but now he was thankful Lance had insisted. 

The room beyond the doorway looked like a general meeting room. The lighting was a little better thanks to the general glow coming from the lines in the wall panels, but not by much. He could make out an empty table with rows of straight-backed chairs sitting on either side of it, with insignias mounted onto the back of each chair. He recognised the image – it was definitely the insignia of the dark magic group that had taken Lance the day before. 

On the other side of the meeting room was another, shorter corridor. There was no magic blocking the doorway so he went straight in, unhesitant. There were no guards around, not like there’d been in previous corridors – he’d taken care of them. The blood on his blade was proof enough of that. The magic doorway was probably thought to keep intruders out.

Lance’s magical signature was stronger here. He could feel distress on it, and the urgent need to hide. Lance was a powerful magic user – he doubted these people had any way to contain him, at least not yet, not considering how unexpectedly they’d grabbed him. He could guess accurately enough that Lance had gotten free, and was trying to find his way out of this maze.

Keith passed several doorways and off shooting corridors as he followed Lance’s signature. He hid twice from two more quartets of guards before he felt Lance’s signature flare. His heart jumped, and he had to force himself to remain steady, to not go running. 

The thundering of footsteps made him suppress a frustrated snarl. He was at a crossroads of corridors, and because everything here was made from metal to hide the interior from magic scrying, all noises echoed in funny directions. He pressed himself against the nearest alcove, eyes darting around.

Movement in the hall across from him caught his gaze. There was a cat cowering in the alcove, its ears pinned flat to its head. Unnaturally bright blue eyes met his, going wide at the sight of him, pupils constricting to pinpricks. The footsteps grew louder, and the cat shrunk away, fearful.

Keith rushed forwards. He darted across the crossroads, keeping low to the ground as soldiers rounded the bend in the corridor to his left. He rolled head over heels, scooping up the cat as he did, and pressed his back against the wall at the last second. 

The soldiers marched past, none the wiser.

Keith’s heart was racing. He didn’t normally get nervous like this, but he was scared of losing Lance. He knew he was squeezing the cat a bit too tight, but he’d recognise Lance’s shifted shape anywhere. There was no mistaking those blue eyes.

The cat let out a little mew, pawing at the bandana covering his face. Keith pulled it down and pressed a swift kiss to the cat’s head, letting the feel of Lance’s magic overwhelm him. It was like a soothing balm, one that slowly eased the rabbiting of his heart. He softened his grip on the cat and let out another deep breath. It was easy enough to tuck Lance into the front of his cloak, keeping Lance secure so he could use both hands.

Getting out would be just as difficult as getting in, but Keith was motivated. He wasn’t great at magic, but this? Sneaking around, keeping quiet, killing without a sound? This he was good at. And keeping Lance safe was the best incentive to spur him on.

As long as he had Lance with him, he could do anything.


	67. Keith/Lance - Vulnerability

Lance could smell the food before Keith even knocked on the door. He could barely stop himself from salivating as he impatiently listened to Keith slot his keys into the lock, push the door open, and shut it behind him. He could hear the blood pulsing in Keith’s veins, and it was so tempting, but he forced it from his mind.

Eventually Keith appeared in the doorway, giving Lance a raised-brow look when he caught sight of him. Lance was curled up on the armchair in the lounge room, a blanket tugged up to his chin. He was looking as miserable as he could, hoping to get a little sympathy. He felt terrible and just wanted all of Keith’s attention.

“I got you some food,” Keith said, as if Lance couldn’t smell it. “Want to eat?”

“Yes,” Lance whined, widening his eyes pleadingly. All exaggeration aside, he was quite hungry, and everyone knew that a hungry vampire was never a happy vampire. Hunger made them susceptible to illness in the same way a weak immune system lead to humans being sick. 

For vampires, hunger was a vulnerability. 

Lance had gotten sick out of nowhere, and his hunger had made things worse. He found himself suddenly lethargic and dizzy. He couldn’t stop pressing his tongue to his fangs. His mouth felt dry, and all he could think about was sinking his teeth into Keith’s neck. And it wasn’t like Keith wouldn’t let him, if he asked. Feeding from a partner was the ultimate sign of trust and intimacy.

But Lance knew he could definitely go out of control when he was like this. Keith’s blood was addictive, and Lance was unsure he could stop himself from drinking too much when he was this hungry. Thankfully Keith seemed to understand that, and hadn’t offered. Lance probably wouldn’t have been able to say no if he had, even though he knew better.

Instead, Keith had gone out to a local vampire-specific restaurant to get Lance iron-enriched food. Lance would always choose Keith’s blood over anything else, but the food from the restaurant came in as a close second. Vampire illnesses could really only be healed by conquering hunger – by eating, essentially. Having iron flood their systems was a sure-fire way to make them feel better. 

“Thank you,” Lance said, letting out a shaky sigh as he accepted the container Keith passed him. It was full of all his favourite sweets – particularly cannoli, and little knot-shaped pastries. If anyone but a vampire ate them, they’d probably taste foul, but to vampires they were obviously delicious. 

Keith sat on the edge of the arm chair, putting his arm around Lance’s shoulders. Some vampires didn’t like the scent of werewolves, but Lance loved almost everything about Keith, his scent included. It was strange for a vampire and werewolf to pair up, but he didn’t give it a second thought anymore.

He cared about Keith, and Keith cared about him, and that was all that really mattered.


	68. Lance/Shiro - Nurse

Lance liked his job working at the local hospital. Compared to the surrounding areas, it was quite a small hospital, one that didn’t see quite as much traffic as neighbouring hospitals did. Large accidents aside, his days were usually quiet, filled with all the typical things – a child with a broken arm, burns from an accidentally knocked over kettle, cuts and bruises from a fall. Little things that nurses could easily handle by themselves. 

For the most part, the people were nice, too. There were always a few basket-cases, and a few people too aggressive for the nurses like Lance to work with. Some people were in so much pain they’d lash out without meaning to. Others were too drunk to see reason. But most people were nice. They were usually upset or embarrassed or hurting, and took comfort in knowing that there were trained medical staff around to help them in any way they could.

His co-workers were quite lovely, too. A little too nosy for their own good sometimes, but nice. Someone always brought in a tin of cookies for their break, and if there was a stressful patient, someone would always make a cup of tea in the break room for the other. As much as they took care of their patients, they took care of each other, as well. 

It was easy to get lost in the chaos of the hospital if they didn’t.

Lance hadn’t shared too much of his personal life with his co-workers. He was new to the team, had only been working there for a year or so. While he trusted his co-workers, he knew people often disagreed with his way of living, and he worried they might treat him differently if they knew he was married to a man. 

It wasn’t like he hid it, though. He wore his wedding ring on a necklace tucked into his uniform, or on his hand when he could. He had a framed picture of him and Shiro in his locker. If people asked, he’d tell them he was married, and that he loved his husband very much. Most people didn’t push for more information beyond that.

So it was safe to say he was rather surprised when one of his co-workers ducked into the break room during his break to inform him that his husband had been admitted to the hospital.

Of course his first instinct was to panic. His co-worker assured him that Shiro wasn’t very hurt, but Lance had to see it with his own eyes to believe it. Never mind that his co-workers had recognised who Lance’s husband was just from the few things he’d mentioned – or maybe Shiro had asked for him, he didn’t know. He just needed to know Shiro would be okay.

He found his worrisome husband in one of the little curtained-off rooms, his leg propped up. There was a bloody towel pressed to his ankle, one that made Lance’s stomach drop.

“What have you done to yourself?” he fretted, darting to Shiro’s bedside. 

“I dropped a vase, you know that glass one?” Shiro took Lance’s hands in his before he could start fluttering with them. “It shattered and gave me a nasty cut, that’s all.”

“Please tell me you didn’t drive here.”

“No,” Shiro said, laughing a little, “I got the neighbour to drop me off.”

Lance let out a deep, shaky breath. “Honestly, Shiro.”

Shiro lifted Lance’s knuckles to his mouth, breathing a soft kiss against them. “Sorry, love.”

Lance sighed again. “Let me have a look at it.”

It was a pretty nasty cut. Lance saw lacerations and grazes daily, some worse than others, but seeing Shiro hurt made him feel queasy. He was usually alright around blood and gross things, since it came with the job, but seeing his husband injured made him weak-kneed and pale. 

“You’ll definitely need stitches,” Lance said.

“Thought so.”

“But it’s not terrible,” he continued. “Not great, but not terrible.”

Shiro laughed quietly again. “At least I get to see you,” he offered.

Unbidden, a small smile twitched at the corner of Lance’s lips. “What were you doing with the vase anyway?”

“I bought flowers,” Shiro explained. “I thought you’d like them.”

Lance felt a flush go through his cheeks. “Silly man,” he whispered.

Shiro only smiled.

Lance didn’t want to stitch up Shiro himself, so one of his co-workers did. He didn’t have the stomach for it, strangely enough, though he did hover a bit too much, wanting to make sure it was done perfectly. Shiro didn’t even flinch as he was fixed up. He was curious about Lance’s work life, and was a hit among his co-workers. Most of them popped in to say a quick hello – and to get an eyeful of Shiro, Lance knew. It made him red knowing how much he’d get teased later.

But it was nice having Shiro around for a little while. Lance wasn’t afraid to cuddle up to him, or let himself be comforted by Shiro, though it really should’ve been the other way around. A lot of Lance’s shifts were stressful and draining, so it was nice to have one that wasn’t. Now that he knew Shiro was okay, he was able to relax a little bit.

When Shiro was ready to go home, Lance asked for the rest of the day off, and was allowed to leave with him. 

“Sorry for disrupting your day,” Shiro said, as Lance helped him out to where he’d parked his car that morning.

“It’s alright, I only had an hour left on my shift anyway,” Lance said. Shiro’s foot was all bandaged up now, and he was limping a little, but he’d be alright with a bit of rest. 

“On the bright side,” Shiro said, “the flowers are okay.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Are they, now?”

“Yep. I caught them instead of the vase.”

“Oh my god, Shiro.”

Shiro gave him a devilish grin. “Anything for you, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my 21st birthday tomorrow, so I want to write something special! If you have any ideas, let me know ^^


	69. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Adore

Julio’s second birthday came around far quicker than Keith expected. His first child, Edelira, was turning five in a few months, and his third child was due to be born in another month or two, and he was still struggling to wrap his mind around that. 

Most of their family and friends came over to celebrate. Even though Lance was more tired than not at the moment, he’d made Julio a cake, and he’d watched over the kids while Keith and Shiro decorated the house. Julio loved lions – his favourite toy was a stuffed lion Edelira had given him, one that used to be her favourite – so he was having a lion themed party. Everything was a mix of orange and yellow, and they’d found little paper plates with lion faces on them. He knew Julio would love it, in his own quiet way.

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asked, as he appeared behind Keith’s shoulder. 

Keith was busy setting the table. He’d laid a sunflower-yellow tablecloth down, and all the places had been set with the little lion plates. The adults would be eating with them too, of course. Lance liked having flowers centred on the table when they had guests over, so there was a bunch of yellow and white ones in a vase on the table, too. 

“Okay,” Keith said, a little confused by Shiro’s question. “Did you get all the streamers up?”

“Yes.” Shiro straightened a few of the plates. “Is Julio still asleep?”

“Last I checked, he was.”

They weren’t going overboard with the party. Julio was too young still to really understand what was going on, but they did want to make it fun. Having all the bright colours around would make him happy, Keith thought. He wanted his son to be happy.

“I can’t believe he’s already two,” Shiro sighed, taking a seat at the table. “I feel like he was only just born.”

Keith made a noise of agreement. Every day he was surprised by how fast his children were growing and learning. It was easier to see with Edelira – she was loud and talkative, and loved showing off her skills, much to the delight of her parents. Julio was quieter, more content to watch than participate. Sometimes it was harder to see if he was improving, but he’d come out with things that seemed far older than he was, and he’d amaze them. 

“He looks more like you every day.”

“Does he?” Keith asked, a little surprised. Out of their two children, Julio was biologically his. While Edelira had Shiro’s dark hair and warm smile, Julio had Keith’s indigo eyes and fair complexion. Keith loved both of his kids equally, regardless of which alpha in their triad had fathered them, but there was no denying that he was proud to see himself in Julio. 

“He’s your spitting image,” Shiro said, sounding amused, which made Keith flush. “Same eyes, same hair, same frown.”

“He doesn’t frown that much.”

Shiro laughed, and Keith couldn’t help but smile too. They both knew that was wrong. Julio was their pouty baby, always looking around with an assessing frown. Of course, he never frowned at his mother. Lance could make both their kids grin just by entering the room. It was the sweetest thing Keith had ever seen.

He didn’t like to admit it, but sometimes he was a little envious of how much their kids loved Lance. He knew the bond the children had with their omega parent was undoubtedly the deepest, and that didn’t meant the kids loved him less than Lance, but he was still envious. It was a strange, conflicted feeling, since he also loved how close the kids were with his omega. There were no favourites among them.

A short while later, Lance came downstairs with the kids, and their family started to arrive. Julio seemed surprised to have the attention all on him, and spent at least an hour cuddled up to Lance, hiding his face in Lance’s neck.

Despite Julio’s shyness, his party was fun. Their family loved to spoil the kids; Shiro and Keith were both only children, so Edelira and Julio were their parents’ first grandkids. Lance’s older brother had kids, but none as young as theirs. In any case, Julio was spoilt rotten by his loved ones, and Keith spent the whole time radiating a proud, alpha scent he had no control over, much to his embarrassment.

The lion plates were a hit with Julio, as was the cartoon, lion-patterned wrapping paper on his gifts. Eventually he settled around all the people in his home, becoming comfortable enough to wander away from his mother. It always took him a little while to settle, so no one pushed him to socialise until he was ready. When he was, he was passed around for cuddles by everyone, before he was sat in his booster seat at the table. He didn’t need a high chair anymore, so he had his own place at the table, and his own plate.

Keith spent a lot of time hovering around Lance. This pregnancy had been exhausting for him. Edelira’s had made him nauseated almost all the time, but Julio’s had made him exceptionally tired. Keith secretly thought he was having another boy because of that, but they didn’t know yet. They were waiting to find out until the baby was born, since all they cared about was having a healthy baby.

“I think he likes his cake,” Lance said, after everyone had been served a slice. Julio was using his hands to dismantle his piece, feeding himself little fistfuls every now and then when he remembered it was edible. He’d already licked the icing off his fingers, though.

Keith snorted, amused. “Just a little.” He had his arms around Lance’s waist, though he was careful of Lance’s baby bump. His omega was leaning back against him a little heavier than usual. He was tired, but determined to stay awake until their family members had all gone home. 

Shiro wandered past them, stopping to press a kiss to each of their heads before making his way to the table. Keith watched him wipe up some of Julio’s mess, though there was no point in cleaning now. Edelira was following him around, her tongue stained from the icing on her cake and all the lollies she’d somehow managed to eat without any of them noticing.

“Can I have another piece, Papa?” she pleaded, tugging at the hem of Shiro’s shirt. It was almost impossible to say no to those big blue eyes of hers, so like Lance’s that neither Shiro nor Keith were strong enough to resist them.

“If you have another piece, that’s your last treat for today,” he warned her. Keith could practically see his conviction wavering.

Edelira gave him a stunning grin. “That’s okay! I love Mama’s cake more.”

“Aww,” Lance cooed, melting back against Keith. 

She was such a smart little girl. Keith could tell she’d gotten that from Shiro – their alpha often gave them the same happy grin when he wanted something. 

There was a little jolt from Lance’s stomach, one that Keith could feel. They both let out a surprised noise. Shiro glanced at them, a questioning rumble coming from him on instinct. Keith met his gaze and just shook his head a little. Nothing was wrong; their unborn child was just restless. 

When all the cake was eaten, they spread Julio’s new toys out on the living room floor to play with. Some family members began to leave, though some had stayed behind for a cup of tea. Shiro had set to making that while Keith cleaned up the table. 

Julio was wandering around the kitchen with them all. He’d been cleaned up after the cake massacre, and although now would usually be a good time for him to nap, he didn’t seem interested just yet.

“What is it, my little lion?” Lance asked, leaning down from where he sat at the dining table as much as he could to gesture for Julio. “Tired?”

Julio blinked at Lance, his signature pout appearing on his face. He was sitting on the kitchen floor, currently uninterested in his toys, and more interested in where everyone else was. His eyes scanned the room before landing on Keith.

“He wants you, Keith,” Lance said, leaning back up.

Keith was surprised. It wasn’t often that the kids would turn down a hug from Lance in favour of him or Shiro. He set aside the plates he’d been moving and instead picked up his son, resting Julio high on his chest how he knew he liked best. 

“What’s up, buddy?” he whispered, gently rubbing Julio’s back. His son didn’t respond beyond making a small grunting noise, his little fingers grabbing onto Keith’s hair to hold onto. He couldn’t help but rub his nose into Julio’s dark hair, letting out a calming scent as he did.

Julio was very reluctant to be put down for the rest of the evening. He wouldn’t turn his face away from Keith’s neck to say goodbye to the rest of their guests, and couldn’t even be coaxed away by Edelira, who wanted to play with him.

At some point Lance went back upstairs, needing to rest. Keith had assumed Julio would sleep with him, since it was well past the time he usually napped, but the instant he put Julio down in their bed with Lance he’d started to whimper. Lance had given Keith a knowing, teasing look. “He just wants to stay with you,” he’d said.

That led Keith to where he was now. While Shiro cleaned up the remainder of the mess from the party, he sat slumped on the couch with Julio on his chest, drawing tiny patterns on Julio’s back with his fingertips. He could tell that Julio wanted to sleep – his wide yawns and slowly blinking eyes were a perfect indication – but he just wouldn’t give into it.

“Did you have a fun time, Lio?” he asked, voice soft.

Julio made a soft noise in response. 

Keith smiled. He remembered some baby photos of himself from his childhood, and now that he’d been thinking about it, Julio really did look like him. They had the same thick black hair, the same indigo eyes, the same pale skin. There were hints of Lance in Julio, of course, especially in the gentle slope of his nose and his cute round ears. But Julio definitely took after him the most. 

Sitting there in the quiet reminded him of when he used to do the same with Edelira. He’d admire all the features she had that she’d gotten from Shiro, in awe of how such a perfect little being could be all his to love and adore. It was the same with Julio, except this time he was finding his own features in his baby’s face, and it gave him the strangest feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Want to sleep now?” he asked next.

“Okay, Daddy,” Julio murmured around a yawn. Keith could feel his tiny exhales against the skin of his next, could feel the calm beating of Julio’s heart against his chest. 

Keith pressed a kiss to the crown of Julio’s head. He still couldn’t believe his baby was two now. Time was flying by far too fast.

“Love you, Daddy,” Julio added.

“I love you too, Julio.” 

A few quiet moments passed, where Keith continued to draw patterns on Julio’s back and listen to his soft breathing. He eventually fell asleep, and although Keith knew he should take him to the daybed where he liked to sleep, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

He was so lucky to have the family he did. Every day he felt like his heart couldn’t grow any bigger with love for them, but it did. Even when it was hard or stressful or tiring, he loved his family more than anything.

And that would never change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the birthday wishes! ❤


	70. Keith/Lance - Lone

Keith was used to being alone. Most sharks were left on their own shortly after birth, expected to survive and grow on their own, with nothing to protect them but their instincts. When they were small, if they stuck to the shadows, to the places their predators were too large to go, then they’d live. If they were smart, it could be done.

Other mers were less inclined to isolation. Many formed pods to travel in, or shoals that they settled into a claimed territory with. Communities were common, far more common than lone individuals. Keith had passed many as he moved around, and while he had seem some sharks settle down in a community, he’d never felt that draw for himself. 

That opinion had changed a little recently, though.

He’d come across a lone mer that was unlike any other he’d seen before. Lone mers had to be tough and aggressive, or else they’d become prey instead of predator, but this one wasn’t like that. He wasn’t meant to be a lone mer; Keith had seen that from the first time he’d spotted him, which made him wonder why he was alone in the first place.

The mer’s name was Lance. His tail was long and scaled with a variety of blue and teal scales that bridged up towards his hips. His fins were lacy and small, not built for fast swimming or hostile manoeuvres. He was clearly a mer who belonged in a shoal, one where protection duties were shared among many members.

Of course, catching Lance’s attention had been difficult. Any other shark might have very well attacked him, though Keith had no interest in doing that. It took some time, and some following him around, but eventually Lance allowed Keith to approach him. Keith had never really reacted to other mers like he did to Lance. He was very curious, and perhaps a little more enamoured than he truly understood.

Over the course of time, Keith came to earn Lance’s trust, and learned about why Lance was on his own. He was from a shoal that had been displaced from their old territory, and thus had to migrate elsewhere. It was difficult for community shoals to migrate if they weren’t a travelling pod, and somewhere along the way Lance had lost the group. He was desperate to find them again, but being alone was dangerous. Even a young shark would have been able to take him.

So Keith offered to help him find his shoal. The ocean was a big place, and if Lance had any chance of finding his home, then he’d need help. Need someone to protect him.

And Lance understood that. He might have still been weary around Keith, but he knew Keith could offer him protection against predators, so he didn’t turn him down. 

It took time, but they became close. As much as Lance was weary, he was also curious, too. 

“Sharks aren’t usually like you,” he’d explained once, as they’d travelled past a coral reef they’d been hoping his shoal had made home, though they were let down on that matter. 

“Like me?”

Lance let out a thoughtful noise. “Quiet,” he said. “Not aggressive, but still dangerous. If you wanted to be, I mean.”

Keith supposed that was true. They’d come across a few threats in their travels, but he’d dealt with it. Some predators could be warned off with glares and angry posturing – quick thrashes of his tail, baring his teeth, making himself look stronger and bigger. Others had thought the temptation of taking out a lone mer like Lance was too great, and had tried.

They hadn’t succeeded.

He’d come away with a few wounds, a few cuts and teeth marks and a new scar on his fin, but they were fine. Lance was still fine. That’s all Keith cared about.

It was strange how protective he became of Lance. He enjoyed Lance’s company, even when he came out with terrible jokes. Lance pulled his weight for the two of them, as well; he was good at catching food, and would catch enough for the both of them so Keith didn’t have to focus on that as well as keeping them safe. And he was quite the groomer, too. Sharks didn’t have scales like mers did, and didn’t need the same upkeep because of that, but that didn’t stop Lance from cleaning Keith’s fins and brushing his hair and doing things to relax him.

Before he knew it, they were treating one another like mates, and Keith would’ve have had it any other way. 

It was conflicting, though. He wanted to find Lance’s family, to reunite them, but where did that leave him? He didn’t want to be without Lance.

Luckily for him, it seemed like Lance was worried about the same thing.

“When we find my shoal, will you leave?” he asked one evening, as they curled up together in a thick kelp forest. They’d found a rock with an overhanging large enough for them to hide beneath. It was safe here.

“I…” Keith didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t want to leave, but shoals rarely accepted sharks into their community. Sharks were too dangerous, too violent. Keith himself had the scars to prove that.

“Will you stay?” Lance whispered, glancing up at him with big, blue eyes. They were so hard to refuse, those eyes. Keith felt weak when they looked at him like that.

“I want to,” he whispered.

“They’ll accept you,” Lance said, “I know they will.”

Keith winced. He was doubtful.

Lance lifted a hand, pressing his palm to Keith’s cheek. “I know they will,” he repeated, firmer, “because you’re not what they’ll expect you to be, Keith.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No one dangerous would have gone through so much to help me find my family,” Lance said, “and no one dangerous would have gone through so much to keep me safe. They’ll see that. They’ll listen to me when I say you deserve a home as much as anyone else, if you want it.” He paused, his fingers tracing lines down Keith’s face, his voice softening. “Do you want it?”

“More than anything,” Keith said, hoarse.

“Then you can have it, Keith,” Lance whispered. “I don’t want you to go.” He leaned forwards, pressing their foreheads together. It was such an intimate gesture that Keith felt something warm thrum through him, filling his chest.

“We’ll find your family,” Keith said. There was so much at stake that he was determined to make it happen.

“I know,” Lance said, before kissing him.


	71. Keith/Lance - Enough

Lance hadn’t told anyone that he was dating Keith. To be hair, he hadn’t really told anyone he was gay. He wasn’t, really. He liked girls. But he liked boys, too. Liked Keith.

It was a secret between them, one they’d mutually agreed to keep. No one knew Keith liked boys, either. At first, they hadn’t even really liked each other. Lance had been jealous that things like popularity and skill came easy to Keith, and he didn’t even care. He didn’t like making friends and didn’t care that girls had thought he was attractive. He was better than Lance at everything and he didn’t seem to even try.

Of course, Lance didn’t think that now. Their competiveness had taken a strange, spine-tingly edge that had been both intimidating and exciting. It took a while, because neither one of them knew who they really were, and that was more important than figuring out whatever it was that had sprung up between them. Lance had to figure out what he wanted, and had to let himself believe that liking girls and guys was okay, that it was okay to want that. He did believe that, now. It was the same for Keith.

And now they were together.

But no one knew.

For now, they thought it would be better that way. Lance wasn’t ashamed of liking Keith, but having others know would be a big… thing. Their friends would make a big deal about it, and Lance’s family would make a big deal about it. They didn’t even know he liked boys, though he thought they might have suspected it. 

In any case, he was content to keep their relationship a secret for now. It was hard, sometimes, since he wanted to hold Keith’s hand, or curl up against his side, or sometimes he’d get very distracted by Keith’s mouth and he didn’t know how to function. He was desperate for their next minute alone together, so that he could get rid of that itch in his hands that demanded he touch Keith.

Since Keith’s parents weren’t often home, that’s where they’d go to hang out. Lance always told his parents that he was going to study, or maybe to hang out with friends if the study excuse was wearing thin. They never asked who he was going with, since they probably assumed it was Hunk or Pidge. Sometimes it was. A lot of the time lately, though, it hadn’t been.

He did feel bad for lying. He didn’t like keeping secrets from his family, at least not ones like this. He was pretty sure that they wouldn’t care if he was dating a guy as long as he was happy. They were cool like that.

But he had to think about Keith, too. Keith had confessed that he wasn’t sure his parents would take it well, if he told them he was gay. He was an only child, and he worried they’d been upset he wouldn’t continue on the family name because there was no chance of him having a biological child with a woman. He knew he was gay, and that was that for him. But he didn’t think it would be enough for his parents. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

Lance understood that. He didn’t want to disappoint his parents, either.

So for now, they kept it a secret. They only held hands under tables and didn’t let themselves look at each other for too long around others and kept their making out confined to Keith’s bedroom.

It wouldn’t always be enough, but for now it was.


	72. Hunk/Lance - Liked

Every time Lance visited home, he always came away with more food than he could carry. It was a Cuban thing, he was sure of it. Every get-together his family had ever held was nothing less than a feast. All members of the family would bring a plate, and the hosting family would always make much more than necessary. 

“It’s the language of love,” his mother used to say, her voice warm and fond. “You should’ve seen the amount of food my grandmother used to make, Lance. I don’t know how she used to fit it on the benchtop.”

It was certainly hard to imagine, given the sheer quantity of food that always amassed at his family gatherings. He wasn’t complaining, though. The food was always a wonderful mix of everyone’s cultures; mostly Cuban, but some Western food too, some fusion cuisines. It was nice. There was always enough of everything to go around, and always something for everyone’s tastes. 

Even going home for a weekend prompted a flurry of food. It was comforting in a lot of ways. Lance loved coming home and smelling his mother’s food before he even opened the door. There was just something bone-deep satisfying about knowing there would be food and knowing it would be amazing. 

Getting leftovers to take back was always a plus, too.

Over the years, Lance had kind of fixated on the idea of food being the language of love. He thought his mother was right when she said that. He’d never really had the talent she had for cooking, but he enjoyed it every now and then, and knew how to cook a few of his favourite Cuban dishes. Since he lived in his own little apartment, it was important he knew how to cook.

He was a little spoiled, though. His best friend, Hunk, was probably the best chef he knew (aside from his mother), and Hunk loved cooking huge meals, enough to share with Lance. He’d always been that way. Hunk had a tendency to cook when he was anxious or stressed, so there was always plenty of food around exam season. 

He’d known Hunk for years. For as long as he could remember, really. He’d been so relieved when they’d decided to go to the same university because it meant they’d live near each other, and be able to see each other often. 

It kind of took him a while to realise that he had a crush on Hunk. A major one. He’d always thought Hunk was handsome, in that sort of dorky, endearing way. He was a big guy and a lot of people thought he’d be the type to be intimidating, but he was the exact opposite. He was nervous and anxious but also sweet and friendly.

And he had his tough moments, too. He wasn’t afraid to stand up for his friends, and it was easy to tell when he was being serious about something, because he didn’t play games like that. He was as honest as he could be.

How was it possible not to like him? Lance thought he would’ve had to of been crazy not to have a crush on Hunk. It was probably his crush on Hunk that first made him realise he was bisexual.

Telling Hunk that he liked him, however, was pretty much impossible. Lance had tried before. They spent so much time alone together that it was hard to keep it a secret, since he never kept secrets from Hunk. A lot of the things they did together already felt like dates – going to coffee shops, visiting each other’s families, making and eating dinner together. It drove Lance mad sometimes, because he was sure his feelings for Hunk were obvious.

He wasn’t exactly good at hiding them.

But Hunk was none the wiser.

Lance was sure that food was the way to show him. Hunk loved food, after all. Loved cooking and eating and experiencing it. And what better way than to cook him Cuban food? Lance thought Cuban food was one of the best ways to show love. That was how it was done in his family, and Hunk had been to their gatherings dozens of times.

He wasn’t sure what he’d cook just yet. It had to be something special, something that would impress Hunk. That would show him Lance was serious about this. He was planning a nice night for them, something that would let Hunk know how much Lance valued him, how much he liked him. 

His mother’s leftovers were definitely going to help. There was plenty of inspiration in her cooking he could get to use for himself. This was going to be a really special meal, he was sure of it. He just really hoped Hunk liked it.

Liked him.


	73. Keith/Lance - Smoke

The smell of smoke was on the air.

Lance had woken to it that morning. Winter meant that the air was sharp and sterile; everything smelt like smoke or damp, so scents carried far and fast, especially with the slight breeze. It was rare for him to smell smoke in winter. He was used to the smoke coming from chimneys and fireplaces, but this was different. It was… harsher. More acrid, more burnt. 

He’d spent most of the morning perched on top of a nearby cliff. The valley surrounding his village was filled with places that overlooked the adjacent slopes. In the far distance he could see the stretch of land known as the fey wilds, where all manner of dark and dangerous creatures came from. The land there was full of brambles and black-barked trees. Not even snow would fall over the wilds.

It was probably nearing midday when he saw the smoke for the first time. He’d occupied himself by shooting down the vulture-like birds that sometimes flew in from the fey wilds over the village, picking off crops and livestock when they thought no one was keeping watch. He’d had his eye on one of the birds when his gaze had shifted slightly to the right to watch as a plume of smoke steadily rose far into the wilds. 

A ripple of unease went through him. He reached back to run his fingers through the arrows still sticking out of the quiver holstered over his back, counting them by touch. He had enough to feel comfortable, but that sense of unease was hard to get rid of. There were always people watching the wilds, especially in the towns closer to the border. Word of a breach always travelled quickly, but when it was smaller breaches – one creature, or a handful, not an army – or if there was unrest within the wilds themselves, that was never passed down the valley. It wasn’t as important.

It took maybe an hour or so before he saw something. Smoke continued to rise in the distance, and the smell on the breeze thickened bit by bit, until he felt like he could taste it in the back of his throat. 

What he saw confused him, at first. It was like a shimmer on the air, like space was bending around something that wasn’t actually there. If it wasn’t for the intense waft of smoke that filled his nose than he would’ve been sure it was just a trick of the winter sunlight.

Most creatures from the fey wilds had some form of magic. It wasn’t hard to believe that one could make itself invisible.

Quietly, he stood from where he’d been sitting on the cliff’s edge, hidden behind aged rocks, and nocked an arrow. His eyes strained to follow that shape moving through the sky, and when it unwittingly flew within range of him, he released his arrow.

A guttural noise burst out of the air like thunder as the arrow flew. It didn’t hit, instead sailing straight past and over the snow-capped trees beneath him, but it had startled whatever was flying. It wobbled in the air, careening down onto the platform where Lance was hiding. Brittle tree branches snapped and bowed as whatever it was crashed into the ground.

Lance held his breath, nocking another arrow as he waited for something to happen. The air rippled, and like an eyelid opening, the creature’s form appeared out of nothing. 

It was a dragon. Black smoke curled out of its nostrils, leading Lance’s eyes to notice a fresh, raw wound on the side of its face, trailing down towards its neck. Its scales were a deep red, flecked with black towards its extremities – the end of its tail, its legs, the tips of its horns. It was breathing fast, and hard enough to jostle its trembling wings with every forceful exhale. 

As he watched, it tried to stand, but couldn’t lift its head. Its form rippled, just like it had when it had materialised, except this time it seemed to obscure for a moment, confusing Lance’s eyes enough that he had to blink and avert his gaze. When he looked back, there was a man there instead.

Slowly, very slowly, he lowered his bow and arrow. The man’s cheek was bloody, and he looked like he was on the verge of completely passing out. Not even a fey creature could fake that amount of exhaustion. He couldn’t even lift a finger.

“Hello?” Lance whispered, creeping closer.

The dragon-shifter let out a weak whine. He coughed, and smoke spat out of his mouth. It looked very uncomfortable.

“I’m going to help, okay?” Lance said. He waited to be attacked, for his aid to be rejected, but the dragon just stared at him with pained, blurry eyes – indigo eyes, Lance was surprised to see. That sort of colour was never seen in people on this side of the border. 

“Help?” the male rasped, like he didn’t understand why Lance would help him.

“You don’t hurt me, and I won’t hurt you,” Lance said, a little nervous.

The man stared at him, gaze glassy and wounded, before ultimately a look akin to relief broke over his face. “Okay,” he whispered.

Lance breathed out, nodding to himself. Something inside told him to help, not to run, so he would. 

His instincts had never been wrong before.


	74. Keith/Lance - Dagger

Sweat dripped down Lance’s neck, making him scowl and wince. He felt like his arm was trembling – his hand had been for the last ten minutes. He’d underestimated what it would be like to fight with a blade. Even if it was a finesse weapon, it was nothing like the bows and arrows he was used to. The kickback of every hit against his blade jarred his hands and made his bones vibrate.

It was terrible.

“Regretting this already?” Keith teased. He was panting and sweaty too, but far less than Lance. And he wasn’t shaking.

“No,” Lance snarled, tightening his grip on his dagger, “I can keep going.”

Keith grinned. It was a wild grin, one full of competitiveness and a hard edge Lance couldn’t quite name. Keith knew he was better than Lance at this, that the gap in their skill level was huge. It would be a long while yet before Lance could disarm him, let alone injure him with a blade.

But he was tiring. Lance could see it in the way he breathed just a little harder than usual, and in the way the precision of his movements was beginning to slip. Keith was an impressive fighter on any given day – he was quick and witty, he moved his blades like they were extensions of his body and not simply tools for doing damage, he could think faster on his feet, see things as if they were in slow motion, always better than his opponent could. It was maddening, sometimes. Maddening but also very attractive, when Keith was trying to show off for him.

Lance was getting better. Faster. Keith was using a training blade so that he didn’t cut Lance, and now Lance was earning less and less bruises when they sparred. It was a slow process trying to train his body to move the way it needed too. He was too used to sharpshooting. 

With one swift movement, Keith lunged forwards. Lance skidded back a step, bringing his blade up to deflect Keith’s, but it was like Keith could read his mind. He swerved out of the way at the last second and jammed the hilt of his dagger against Lance’s wrist, making him yelp. His dagger clattered to the floor.

“You’re tired,” Keith said, lowering his blade and easing his posture. “That’s enough for today.”

Lance scowled, frustrated with himself. He’d asked Keith to teach him this because he needed to know how to defend himself when it came to close combat fighting. There wasn’t much he could go in an ambush, not when his bow wasn’t out. It was hard training in secret like they did, but he was embarrassed about needing the help. He didn’t want to seem weak. Sharpshooting was his thing – it wasn’t meant to be a skill that wasn’t enough.

Keith didn’t care about those sorts of things though. He had no problem teaching Lance. Probably liked roughing him up a little, since he was so good at it.

But he was gentle, too. He stepped close and lifted Lance’s pulsing wrist to his mouth, pressing his lips against the tender skin for a long moment. There would be a bruise there, Lance knew that for sure. They’d both come to an understanding that being hurt was a part of being trained.

Keith still treated his wounds carefully, though. He didn’t go easy on Lance, because Lance would hate that, but he cared. 

“Am I getting better?” Lance asked, flushed.

“Yes.”

Lance gave Keith a searching look. “Are you sure?” 

Keith kissed his wrist again. “I’m sure.”


	75. Keith/Lance - Clear

Keith hissed as boiling water sloshed over the rim of his cup. He hadn’t been paying attention to what he’d been doing, and he hadn’t been careful with his hands. Steam rose off his skin as he bit his lip hard, resisting the urge to dance around like an idiot.

“You alright in there?” came a tired voice from the living room. 

“Fine,” Keith replied back, trying to keep the pain from his voice. Of course, no matter how well he hid it, Lance always knew. He had the most uncanny way of seeing through Keith that Keith couldn’t explain. He had no choice but to be vulnerable. 

He hadn’t always thought that was a good thing.

With Lance, though, he now thought it was.

“Come in here,” Lance said.

Sighing, Keith set aside the cup, and wondered into the den. Lance was curled up on the lounge under a mountain of blankets and pillows. His face was still flushed with fever, an achievement considering his dark complexion. He looked as exhausted as he had the day before, which worried Keith, since all he was doing was sleeping.

“Let me see,” Lance insisted.

Keith reluctantly held out his hand. Lance took it, his fingers weak and shaky as he turned Keith’s palm upwards, glancing over the red burn mark. Even though it looked like it exhausted him, a glow appeared at his fingertips, smoothing over the burn like crystal clear water. The stinging pain receded, and Keith’s skin returned to its normal, pale white.

“You shouldn’t,” Keith whispered. Using magic would only tire him more.

Lance hummed, uncaring. His fingers continued to smooth over Keith’s palm, slow and repetitive, until all the tension was leeched out of Keith’s body. He let out another sigh, and sat on the edge of the lounge, careful not to disturb Lance’s mountain of blankets. He turned his palm back over so he could hold Lance’s hand in his.

He was normally so strong and energetic. Keith hated seeing him like this, even though he knew getting sick was a natural part of life. Magic users just seemed to feel it more. Keith had magic, but it wasn’t the same as Lance’s – he could shift his form, could enhance his senses, but he couldn’t conjure things, couldn’t heal things from nothing like Lance could. He didn’t get the same sicknesses as Lance.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked.

Lance thought for a moment. “A little,” he said, “I don’t feel as stuffy as yesterday.”

“But still tired.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah.”

Keith sighed. He couldn’t wait to see Lance when he was back to himself, back to his normal energy levels. He was irresistible when he was like that, so lively and loud and full of vitality. Keith missed his company, even though Lance was still around. He worried when Lance slept so much.

“Maybe a few more days, then I’ll feel better,” Lance said, offering a small smile.

“I hope so,” Keith said earnestly.


	76. Keith/Lance - Gust

Lance shivered as he tugged his sweater tighter around him, feeling chills race up his arm. The weather had been a mess recently; warm and uncomfortably humid one day, cold and biting the next. He never knew what to wear, and whether he needed to bring an umbrella out with him or not. 

Going on his weekly dates with Keith was proving to be troublesome when it came to the weather, too. Last week he’d worn a jumper but it had been so hot he’d sweated right through it, and that had been very uncomfortable. This week he’d worn a thinner sweater, thinking the weather wasn’t going to be too hot or too cold, but he’d been wrong. 

He was surprised by how cold the air was. It hadn’t been this way for a while, and it made him think winter was truly on its way, or had actually arrived. 

“This wasn’t the best idea for a date,” he conceded, as he and Keith huddled together in the park. They’d gotten food at a nearby take-away shop, and although it was warming his stomach, everything else was cold. The tree they were under offered a little bit of comfort from the occasional gust of biting wind, but it definitely wasn’t enough. Any gap in Lance’s clothes, like the space between his shirt and his pants, or where his ankles were exposed, immediately felt the brunt of the chill.

“Definitely not,” Keith agreed. When the weather was good, lunch in the park was one of their favourite things to do. They made a point of going on at least one date a week, so that they never felt like they went too long without seeing one another. Grabbing food and chilling somewhere in the park nearby was a cheap and easy way to catch up, especially if one of them was broke or strapped for time and energy. 

Lance was going to miss being able to sit outside when it became too cold to. He was stubbornly hanging onto it, even though he was bothered by the cold. 

“We could always find a café,” Keith offered, when he saw Lance’s down expression. “To sit inside.”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, sighing. “That could be good.”

Keith nudged a little more of their food towards Lance, who took it to keep his mouth occupied. He didn’t complain when Keith scooted over to sit pressed up against him, his arm going around Lance’s shoulders. He ran much warmer than Lance did, even though Lance liked summer more. Leaning against him made Lance feel much warmer.

“Isn’t there a café a few blocks over?” he offered. “That new one, with the plants hanging from the roof in those little baskets.”

Keith hummed. “I think there’s one there, yeah. We can check it out next week if you want.”

Lance couldn’t help but let a smile cross his face as he cuddled into Keith more. Keith always made him feel better. “Sounds like a plan to me.”


	77. Keith/Lance - Hawk

Lance’s fingers were shaking as he fumbled with the coins in his hand. He couldn’t insert them into the slot the first time, and swore as one clattered to the concrete floor. Was he shaking or was he just cold? He couldn’t feel anything except the pulsing of his blood. 

There was a dull beep from the receiver as he finally managed to put in his coins. He held it to his ear with his shoulder as he returned both hands to the strap of the black duffel bag over his arm, wringing it over and over. The weight of it was starting to bother him, so he set it down on the ground, before nervously picking it back up again. 

A few shrill rings later, and a voice appeared down the other end of the phone. “Lance?”

“It’s me,” Lance whispered, letting go of the duffel strap to instead hold the phone steady. He was the only one who knew this number – a private number Keith had set up just for him. “Where are you? I had to get out of there.”

“The signal on your phone died, I couldn’t track you anymore,” Keith answered. His voice was scratchy and rough, and Lance didn’t know how much of that was nerves, or how much was from the shitty phone booth.

Lance glanced around, eyes jumping from spot to spot around him. He felt exposed in the phone booth. The glass panels of its walls hardly obscured him. Even though it was dusk, and so overcast that no one was walking around, he still felt watched. It was the worst feeling.

“Can you come get me?” Lance whispered, desperate. 

“Hold on.”

There were a few moments of silence. Lance pulled away from the receiver to glance around, twisting his head in all directions to scan the streets around him. Drops of rain were starting to splatter against the windows on either side, making the interior fog up a little. He couldn’t help but shiver, feeling worry pinch and squeeze at his stomach.

“If you stay there, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Keith said.

Lance bit his lip. He swore he saw something move down the street, ducking away from the pale orange light the streetlights cast. “I think they’ve found me,” he said, feeling the air leave his lungs. 

“Can you hide somewhere nearby? An alleyway?”

“Yeah.” Lance was reluctant to hang up the phone – he hadn’t brought his mobile with him, the battery had died. But he was too out in the open here. 

“Just stay hidden,” Keith repeated, “okay? I’ll come and get you now, I promise.”

“Okay,” Lance said. He couldn’t have lingered any longer even if he’d wanted to because the phone began to beep, and a robotic, female voice told him that he’d need to insert more coins to stay on the line. Frustrated, he slammed the phone back on its hook and exited the phone booth.

It was cold outside, and the light rain didn’t help matters. He kept the duffel bag close to him as he hurried into the nearest alleyway, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one saw him as he did so. He was wearing all black, so he was sure he blended into the shadows well as he pressed his back to the wall of the alleyway. It smelt vaguely like rotting fruit and wet cardboard, which made the tension in his stomach worse. 

A moment passed before he heard faint footsteps against the pavement. He held himself perfectly still as a dark figure rushed past the mouth of the alleyway. Another soon followed, stopping in their tracks to turn towards him for a moment, scouring the area. Lance slowly sunk lower to the ground, hiding behind an industrial trashcan, holding his breath as he did so. Eventually, the figure passed.

It didn’t really made him any less nervous.

He was relieved when a car pulled up on the street. Its engine was completely silent; he hadn’t heard it approach at all, but its shape was familiar, and the faint click of its doors being unlocked from the inside was familiar.

Without a second glance, Lance rushed towards the car. He heard a shout from further down the street but was already flinging the door open and throwing himself inside. Keith was sitting behind the wheel, wearing a black turtleneck and his signature leather jacket, the one with the scuffs and wear marks and the permanent, faint smell of Keith’s cologne from how much he’d worn it (something Lance found out firsthand). 

Even with the rush he was in, Lance’s couldn’t help but notice Keith’s attractiveness – his dark hair pushed back from his eyes, his boyish but masculine fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, the strong slope of his shoulders. 

“Shut the door,” Keith said.

Lance did.

The roar of the engine taking off as Keith floored it echoed around the empty streets, not unlike the cry of a hawk as it wheeled about in the sky. Lance belted himself in before Keith took any major turns, holding the duffel bag on his lap as they peeled out of the town. There was no way Keith was driving the speed limit – he’d probably doubled it at this rate – but Lance had never felt safer. 

“That was close,” Keith murmured.

“I know.”

When the town buildings faded away and the road became empty, Keith slowed the car down. He glanced at Lance out of the corner of his eye, reaching a hand across to run his knuckles across Lance’s cheek. “You’re wet.”

“It’s raining.”

Keith frowned at him, but Lance knew he wasn’t mad. He leaned his cheek against Keith’s hand for a moment, before Keith returned it to the wheel. 

“Did you get them?” Keith asked.

For the first time that night, an easy grin crossed Lance’s face. He zipped open the bag, exposing the thousands of tiny diamonds inside. “Yep.”

Keith smirked. “That’s my boy.”


	78. Keith/Lance - Drizzling

Lance yawned as he slumped in the seat. He was on the verge of falling asleep, and felt like he had been for the last hour. It was one of those days where everything was slow and comfortable. The weather had been average, if a little on the rainy side, and nothing terrible or bad had happened. No slipping over on the wet pavement, no dropping his textbooks, no forgetting anything at home.

It was a good day.

He was sitting curled up on the couch that afternoon, yawning every few minutes and covering his mouth with his hand. Keith had gone to get a drink and come back with something for both of them. Even with the sugar from his drink, Lance was still yawning, unable to help himself. It was just one of those days. Everything was tiring in a deep, satisfying way.

“How’s the study going?” Lance asked, blinking across at Keith, who was at the other end of the sofa they were sharing. They’d found a quiet corner of campus to study at, and were taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi to get some work done. Well, Keith was. Lance was sinking further and further into the couch and yawning more and more.

Keith grunted in reply, frowning at his laptop screen. “Just compiling references,” he said, then sighed. “It’s boring, to tell the truth.”

Lance laughed quietly. “I don’t think essays are meant to be fun, babe.”

Keith just grunted again. It was a very Keith thing to do.

Lance smiled to himself, resting his head against the back of the couch as he watched Keith work. It was drizzling outside, and every time someone entered the building through the door down the corridor, he felt a waft of cool air that smelt heavily of water and damp plants. He liked the scent of the rain.

Days like this were endlessly relaxing, when they came about. They were rare, he thought, as he watched Keith develop a concentrated but thoughtful frown, but good. They changed the tempo of the week and made things feel a little smoother. There was nothing quite as good as the feeling he had – the one where he was tired, but in the way that meant he’d sleep exceptionally well that night.

“Love you,” he said out of nowhere, because he could.

Keith blinked, surprised, and smiled. “Love you too, Lance.”


	79. Lance/Shiro - Barista

Lance didn’t often wake up early. He liked to sleep in, though he always gave himself enough time to get ready in the morning. He was the type of person to prepare everything the night before – his clothes, his lunch, that sort of thing. Sleep was something he valued, since if he didn’t feel well-rested, he wasn’t able to do his best every day. He hated when he was tired and yawning all day.

This day, however, he was up bright and early. He’d started working for the family business while he was home for the holidays, which meant he had to be at the bakery before the sun rose in order to get everything ready by the time customers arrived. He lived nearby, so at least there wasn’t far to travel, but it was still a bit tedious.

Not that he’d ever complain to his family, though. He’d help wherever possible.

Luckily for him, there was a new coffee shop across the road that was open pretty early in the morning. A few hours into his shift, when the very first hints of sunlight were starting to appear, the sign in the coffee shop was flipped to its open side. Lance’s parents told him that it had been open for a few months now, and that the coffee was good. He was sent over there when the doors first opened with everyone’s orders.

The café was pretty cute. It had a sort of natural vibe to it – plants and soft white and green colours, matching wooden tables and chairs, wooden panelling on the walls. It was nice, he thought. The interior smelt like flowers and fresh coffee, which he liked.

The barista behind the counter glanced up as Lance wandered in. “Oh!” the man said, glancing at Lance’s apron. “You work at the bakery across the road, right?”

Lance felt heat rise to his cheeks. The barista was tall and handsome, with warm brown eyes and a welcoming smile. A perfect combination to make Lance melt into a puddle. “Yes – uh, yes,” he stammered. “I guess you know everyone’s orders?”

The man gave him a grin that was way too cheery for this time of the morning. “Yep, got it down to a science, now. Someone comes over every morning.”

Lance couldn’t help but smile. “I’m Lance, by the way.”

The man leaned over the counter to offer his hand. “I’m Shiro. It’s nice to meet you, Lance.” His grip was firm, and the feel of his large hand around Lance’s was heavenly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh no,” Lance said, flushing from embarrassment this time. He could only imagine what his parents had said about him. They were too proud, sometimes, and would definitely know that Shiro is exactly his type.

“Only good things!” Shiro laughed, before he gave Lance a teasing, cheeky grin. “I swear.”

“Uh huh.” Despite his mortification, Lance couldn’t wipe that smile off his face. Getting up early was suddenly worth it.


	80. Hunk/Lance - Doubt

Most people didn’t expect Hunk to be a self-conscious person. He was anxious, yes, and nervous in a lot of situations; the kind of person who scared quick at little things, like scary movies or a spider scuttling across the floor or the toaster popping up out of nowhere. But that didn’t really translate to self-consciousness, or doubt in himself. Aside from those little anxious quirks, he thought he was a pretty confident guy.

There was really only one thing that he was self-conscious about.

See, his boyfriend was amazing. Like, pretty much perfect. Lance was charming and flirty and energetic and handsome in a really beautiful way and Hunk was smitten. He’d known Lance for years, since they were kids really, and now that their friendship had moved into something more he was just… amazed. All the time. 

Realistically, Hunk was certain that Lance could’ve had anyone he wanted. He was the type of person most people liked, and he could be pretty endearing underneath his terrible puns and pick-up lines. He was endlessly supportive and unconditionally loyal, and once someone noticed that, they’d realise just how good a catch Lance was.

Majority of the time, Hunk was pretty confident in their relationship. Lance was affectionate and touchy and liked showing off what he had – and sometimes, that meant Hunk. It was ridiculous how loved and how attractive Lance made him feel. Addictive, even. Lance was just so honest and open with his affection, it made it impossible not to believe him, not be the same towards him.

It was just… sometimes, Hunk was truly blown away how pretty Lance was. And he wasn’t the only one that noticed. Lance got hit on a lot, got a lot of appreciative stares and nice comments and things like that. Hunk didn’t usually mind. Even he was awed by Lance sometimes.

But it was hard to not think that perhaps he wasn’t up to standard. He knew he wasn’t the most attractive guy out there, and that his body shape wasn’t ideal, but he was healthy and happy and that was all that had ever mattered to him. 

It wasn’t a thought that ever plagued him for long. Lance never let him feel insecure in their relationship, even if he didn’t realise half the time what he was doing. If someone was hitting on him, or getting too personal, he’d firmly reject them – would emphasise that Hunk was his boyfriend, and Hunk was who he wanted. He’d get annoyed if they’d persist, and stick himself to Hunk’s side until they’d get the message.

It definitely made Hunk feel special. He liked being cuddly – not as much as Lance, but he wasn’t opposed – and he liked feeling like Lance was his. That no one could have him because Lance had chosen him. There was no better confidence booster than an attractive, charming man declaring to the world that they wanted him.

And Lance was the most attractive man out there, no doubt.


	81. Keith/Lance - Hooked

Keith clenched his hands behind his back, circling his fingers around his wrist over and over. For the most part, he was keeping himself outwardly collected, despite his boredom. These sorts of meetings were never particularly interesting. As a member of the royal guard, he was tasked with standing stationary around the hall, ready to jump in at any moment to protect the royal family.

He supposed he was lucky he had instincts as good as he did. He didn’t have to focus as hard, and was free to let his mind wander, within reason of course. He’d always relied on his instincts, and they’d always paid off for him. A tingle would flair up at the back of his neck whenever something bad was going to happen, like he could sense it on the air; trusting that instinct had always paid off.

It wasn’t like he ever thought about useless things, either. If his mind strayed from his duty, it was usually to stray to Lance. He always looked so different when he was on duty, if it could be called that. As the young, beloved prince of the Altea kingdom, he was expected to attend certain meetings, resolve certain issues on his own, organise certain events or programs. It was a lot of work to put on the shoulders of such a young man, but the only way to gain experience was to jump right in.

Keith thought he was doing a good job of it, all things considered. Lance was always cordial and fair during meetings, and he managed to keep himself serious around important dignitaries and nobles. He certainly wasn’t his usual self, but these sorts of situations called for a stricter approach, and he always seemed up to the task.

It was different seeing him like this, though. There was no denying that. Keith supposed he’d become a glutton for Lance’s individual attention, since he was privy to it so often now. Not many knew of the true nature of their relationship, but it was a slow thing. Neither one of them felt a rush, or a sense of pressure to proceed. 

Lance was definitely different when he wasn’t concerned about how others perceived him. He was very confident and flirty, and spoke his mind without thinking about it. He embarrassed himself a lot but wasn’t afraid to blush and stammer his way through a conversation. But above all of that, he was compassionate and competitive, so it was really no wonder that Keith liked him as much as he did.

Being with the prince obviously had its challenges, but Lance was worth it. Keith liked seeing this strict side of him, because it made him really appreciate how comfortable Lance was when it was just the two of them, or them and their companions. 

He liked having that comfortable, happy Lance to himself. Liked knowing Lance felt content to be himself around him. There was something utterly addictive about him, and Keith was hooked.


	82. Keith/Lance - Key

Keith pressed a hand to Red’s back, keeping her steady. Her crimson scales shifted beneath his palm, flinching with movement as she tensed and released her muscles. She was restless, and rightfully so. No dragon liked being in confined quarters, but she was reluctant to leave his side, and had thus followed him into the ruins. 

Ahead of them, the dark elves were circled around what was left of their beacon – a large, carved stone standing in the centre of a slightly raised dais. The walls and pillars of the temple had long since crumbled, and what was left was covered in dark, thorny vines and prickly weeds, but the stone was there. Keith knew it was the most important part – his people, the fire elves, had their own beacons.

His eyes moved across the dark elves, counting them and taking stock of their weapons. There was well over a dozen, each armed with a blade of some kind, but Red could take them. She was growing bigger with every passing day, growing stronger and faster. She could breathe fire for almost a minute, a sign that she was on the cusp of maturation. 

If she could distract the dark elves, then he could grab the hostage.

Said hostage was slumped against the centre stone, bound by chains. He wasn’t what Keith expected.

The reason he’d come here, risking his safety as well as Red’s, was because of the hostage. Among each of the elven races, there was a myth, slightly different for each, that spoke of a key. There was only one per lifetime, and with each lifetime, it became harder and harder to find. The keys were said to be able to unlock the true potential of the beacons, no matter which faction of magic the beacon belonged to.

In all of history, as far as their historians knew, the key had never been used to unlock a beacon. All of its untapped potential was waiting to be uncovered. There had been wars waged over keys, over potential keys. Over beacons, too, though they soon learned that taking a beacon that wasn’t compatible with their magic was unwise.

He’d heard rumours that they key could be a person. Thousands of years of struggling over the secrets the key held produced thousands of opinions – that they key was literal, that it was a metaphor, that it was a lost form of magic. A person, too. He supposed he just hadn’t believed that one.

But there was no mistaking the beacon – the hostage. He looked like a water nymph from what Keith could tell. There were blue markings on his arms and under his eyes, and they were pulsing with a faint glow, completely in time with the carved markings on the stone he was slumped against. The markings on beacons glowed, of course they did, but not like a heartbeat. Keith didn’t know much about an elf being the key, but he knew that wasn’t what happened with normal magic.

“Not yet, Red,” Keith murmured, when he sensed his dragon coiling for attack. “Hold for a moment.”

An inaudible, impatient thrum went through her body. He stroked her scales once more, waiting for her to settle. This was no time for rushing, not when the key was at stake.

He let out a slow breath. “Can you distract them, Red?”

There was another thrum, an excited one this time.

“Alright.” He waited a moment, counting the dark elves again, counting their weapons and the chains on the hostage. When his heartrate had eased, and the tension had drained from his body, he tapped Red’s side, and watched her wiggle as her wings slowly unfurled. 

Then, in the next instant, she was sky borne. 

The dark elves cried out in their language as Red bore down on them. A stream of molten fire burst out of her mouth as she circled over the ruins, lighting anything flammable. Keith tore out from behind the chunk of stone he’d been using as cover, using Red’s chaos as a chance to get to the hostage.

The water elf looked at him with fear in his blue eyes as Keith darted up to him. He used his dagger to break the cloth gagging him, but the chains would have to wait. He didn’t have time to unlock them right now.

“Wh-what are you doing–” the elf choked out, gasping for air.

A zap when down Keith’s spine, and without thinking about it, he pushed the water elf down, flattening them against the ground. A second later, a dark elf’s enchanted blade flew where their heads had been, clattering off the carved rock to skid uselessly to the side.

“Red!” Keith shouted.

The dragon let out a shattering, piercing roar. Another stream of fire cut through the dark elves, scattering them. Keith grabbed onto the front of the water elf with one hand and held up the other. Red swept down on him a moment later, her two front paws latching onto him. A weightless feeling sunk in his stomach as he was lifted into the air. 

The water elf screamed, tears springing to his eyes. Keith grunted and swung him up over Red’s back, thankful that his dragon knew what he was doing, and shifted her weight to help. When the water elf was securely slung over her back, he climbed up himself, and set to undoing the chains.

“Where are you taking me?” the elf shouted over the sound of the wind rushing by.

“Back to the fire territory.”

“What, so your people can use me, too?”

“No.” Keith was surprised by the hostility in the elf’s expression. The chains unlocked with a clicking noise, and he sent them tumbling down far below them as Red continued to rise into the sky. “We got word that the dark elves had taken the key. I was sent to bring it to safety.”

“Safety?” the elf spat. “How is kidnapping me safety?”

“I’m not kidnapping you.”

“This is exactly what the dark elves did! They took me from my home!” The elf’s expression wavered, and he suddenly looked so young that Keith felt his heart squeeze. “I just want to go home.”

“There are representatives of the water territory waiting,” Keith said, after a moment. “They can take you home, if that’s what you want.”

“Truthfully?”

Keith paused again. “I think so. But it’s not up to me. No one expected the key to be a living person.”

The elf sniffed, pushing himself upright. He was shaky on Red’s back, but far more comfortable than Keith expected him to be. “I get that a lot,” he said.

Keith forced himself to smile a little, wanting to appear more welcoming. “My name is Keith,” he said, before reaching over to the side to pat his dragon, who let out a smoky snort. “This is Red.” 

The elf let out a snort.

Keith frowned. “What?”

Out of nowhere, Red’s head perked up. She let out a short growl, flaring her wings to stall their momentum a fraction. From the clouds ahead of them, a dark shape emerged. There was another growl, another dragon’s growl, and Keith tensed, his hand going to his dagger.

“Wait,” the water elf said, grabbing Keith’s hand to still him. “That’s Blue.”

Keith cut him a sharp look.

“My dragon,” the elf explained, with a small smile.

The dragon that emerged from the clouds was a little larger than Red, though it looked to be about the same age. Its scales were a deep blue, but its eyes were brighter, like shallow water. When it opened its jaws, sparks of ice and plumes of frosted mist escaped from between its teeth. It saw the water elf, and didn’t attack.

Keith knew that dragons were incredibly rare companions. To see one other than his own was an exceptional experience. 

Blue followed along beside them, eyes pinned on its elven companion, who made no attempt to cross to his dragon, but Keith assumed that was because he was exhausted. He didn’t know what the dark elves were doing to him, but he could guess they were siphoning his energy to unlock the beacon. 

“My name is Lance, by the way,” the elf added.

“Will you come back to the fire territory?” Keith asked. 

Lance thought about it for a moment. “It would be the best choice, right? I doubt this is ever going to stop happening to me now that it’s started. Either I try to hide, and live alone forever, or I die. Those are the only ways this will all stop.”

“Or you come back with me,” Keith interjected. “Our territories are on the cusp of uniting for the first time in centuries. The dark elves grow more and more powerful every day, and we’re in danger because of them. Everyone is. Maybe you’re what we need to truly unite.”

Lance stared at him, eyes wide and vulnerable as he assessed Keith’s words. He seemed to find the truth in them – that Keith was being honest. “Maybe,” he conceded, his shoulders relaxing. He let out a deep breath, rubbing at his chafed wrists. “How far is it to the fire territory anyway?”

“A few days, if we fly with minimum breaks.”

“That’s far from home,” Lance murmured.

It was far from the water territory, Keith thought. He remained silent.

Lance sighed. “I’ll come back with you,” he said. “This might be my best chance at keeping my family safe.”

“Keeping everyone safe,” Keith said.

Lance gave him another tentative smile. “I hope so.”


	83. Lance/Shiro - Selected

There were cracks on the floor. The stone was worn smooth, slightly textured like a river rock cracked open, and cold. Shiro knew it well.

He hated being here. Year after year he was forced to return, hoping that it would be the last. As beautiful as the manor was, and as safe as it was, he hated it. He stared around him with disdain, wishing that if he couldn’t leave, he could at least sink through the floor. He’d backed himself into a corner, as he always did, with his back to the wall.

Every year, every unclaimed familiar was required to attend the selection ceremony, where fledgling magic-users came to find their familiar. Their magic would search the room and pick out the most suited familiar, who would then step forwards to see if the magic-user approved of them or not. Each familiar was required to attend the meeting in their animal form, so that human aesthetics weren’t taken into account by the magic-user.

But that didn’t consider the appearance of the familial form.

Shiro had gone through this process countless times. He’d been chosen by a few magic-users before, but ultimately was rejected, sent back down to the floor to sulk by himself. It was humiliating to be rejected, even though his magic determined they’d be a good match.

But he couldn’t blame the magic-users. He was damaged goods.

A lot of familiars, like Shiro, were drafted to be soldiers before they were paired with a magic-user. The fight against dark magic was never ending. Shiro had been good as a soldier, good as a fighter. He was fast and strong and good at leading. His familial form was a black lion, and that leant to his physical strength and battlefield prowess. 

For a while, that had been enough. All familiars wanted a partner, but being used as a soldier was satisfying enough to keep him moving forwards.

An injury changed all of that.

After losing his arm – a front leg, as a lion – he’d been discharged from the soldier’s ranks and set to the selection ceremony halls. And despite being fitted with a prosthetic, there was something undeniably pathetic-looking about him, something wounded and unfriendly. No magic-user would accept him, after all. There’d been a few that had reacted to him, but when he’d approached them, they’d rejected him.

Now it was more of a formality than anything for him to be here. He had no choice, since it was a law that any unclaimed familiar had to attend until they found a compatible magic-user. Shiro was just relieved it only happened once a year.

This year was proving to be no different from the rest. He’d arrived as late as he could, putting off this humiliation for as long as he could manage. There were only a few familiars like him, the ones no one wanted. They were each as unsociable as the next, which was unsurprising. Shiro prowled through the hall without meeting anyone’s eyes, letting out warning snarls if some young familiar got too close to him.

His prosthetic paw clicked against the stone floor as he found his usual corner, sending a cluster of mouse familiars scurrying away. When he took stock of the room, he recognised a few faces, some who had been here for longer than he had, but others that were still in their first few years of searching. 

As usual, he was surprised by the sheer variety of familiars here. There was a trio of bats hanging from the ceiling, ears perked inquisitively, and a Doberman sitting straight-backed right in front of the dais where the magic-users stood. He saw bears huddled near an arctic fox, and snakes coiled around the ornate pillars holding up the platforms on the overlooking balconies, the railings of which were laden with a number of different birds – owls, magpies, hummingbirds, hawks. There were some less popular choices around, of course – small lizards, chickens. The more popular choices like dogs, wolves, cats and moths were scarcer. It was rare someone would reject them for aesthetic reasons.

Eventually, the selections began. A senior magic-user would announce each subsequent mage as they approached the dais, which was only a few steps raised above the hall floor. The magic-user would send out a wave of their magic, and if a familiar was compatible, they’d walk up to the steps to present themselves. 

It could be a tedious process for someone with no hope. Shiro watched as each familiar was chosen by a magic-user; first one of the bats, and then a russet-furred wolf, and then a moth flittered down, accepted into the welcoming palms of the magic-user on the dais. It was a parade of familiars, and Shiro grew more despondent with each one.

He didn’t even like looking at who climbed the dais.

Eventually, however, someone drew his eyes. The magic-user who next took the dais was dressed in fashionable blue robes with a circlet of dried, white coral and pearls around his forehead. There was a nervous look on his face as he glanced around the full hall. He was introduced as Lance McClain, and after a moment, instructed to send out his magic.

Blue energy coalesced in his palms, and began to send little pulses of light spiralling around the hall. Everyone’s magic felt different, and his felt cool, like a breeze wicking off the surface of the sea. Shiro could almost smell it.

A strange coolness began to thrum through him. He was startled by conflicting feelings of dread and excitement as he felt himself respond to the magic. Each time this had happened in the past, he’d been humiliated and rejected. He didn’t want to stand, but it was against the rules for familiars to deny magic-users the chance to choose them if their magic was compatible. 

Reluctantly, Shiro stood. Eyes flickered towards him, watching him approach. He felt them stare at his scars, some so deep his fur hadn’t been able to regrow over them, and his prosthetic leg. Several familiars parted to let him through as he approached the dais. He kept his head low as he waited for the magic-user to reject him.

“Woah,” was the first thing Lance said. He approached the edge of the dais, holding out a hand towards Shiro, who forced himself up the steps to greet him. Shiro was large, even for a lion familiar, so the magic-user didn’t need to bend to look him in the eyes. His fingertips gently touched Shiro’s muzzle, smoothing over the thick scar that bridged his nose.

Shiro let out an uneasy rumble. He’d never been rejected this slowly.

“Sorry,” Lance with, withdrawing his hand with a bashful smile. “I’m Lance. What’s your name?”

“Shiro,” he said. All familiars could communicate while in their animal form by projecting their thoughts. It worked the same as verbal speech – anyone nearby could hear.

“Shiro,” Lance repeated, before smiling wider. He had the most handsome smile, Shiro thought, his heart squeezing. “Shall we go?”

He lifted his head, ears pressed back against his skull as confusion washed over him. “What?”

“Let’s go,” Lance said again, giving him a puzzled but welcoming look, one that made Shiro want to curl up into himself. “We have to go register with the magistrate.”

“I don’t understand…”

It took a moment, but Lance seemed to understand what Shiro was saying. He glanced down at Shiro’s prosthetic, but the welcoming look in his blue eyes didn’t fade.

“Come on,” Lance beckoned. When Shiro cautiously approached him, he put his hand in Shiro’s mane, and it was such a comforting gesture that Shiro felt all the tension drain out of him.

Lance chose him.

Then and there, Shiro decided that he’d do anything to protect him.


	84. Lance/Lotor - Awning

Lance had forgotten his umbrella. He always seemed to bring it with him when it didn’t rain, carrying it around in case the skies decided to agree with the weather forecast. The one day he decided that he’d gotten sick of almost forgetting it places and subsequently decided to leave it at home, the rain had come. Of course he’d been outside when it happened, too. It was ironic, really.

The first droplet hit the back of his neck, which was as disconcerting as it sounded. He’d looked up and seen an angry grey sky above him, one that made him scowl. Of course – of course today was the day it finally rained. It had been miserable all week, flipping between cold and windy to just straight up frigid. Lance preferred summer over winter, but autumn was usually an alright in-between. Not that day, it seemed.

He yelped as the rain started to come down in earnest. There was a subtle crackle in the sky, like faint thunder, and then water began to bucket down. This was not the day for rain to happen. Not only was he in a rush without his umbrella, but he was dressed nicely, and he’d put effort into perfecting every flick in his hair. Even the slightest amount of rain-induced humidity was going to reduce it to a frizzy mess.

“Lance!” a familiar voice called out, as he almost rushed right past the café where he was meant to be going. A hand snagged him by the arm, pulling him underneath the cover of the café’s wooden awning. “Where are you running off to?”

Lance rubbed water out of his eyes, trying not to let himself feel too miserable. “I forgot an umbrella,” he groaned.

Lotor raised a hand to run his fingertips over Lance’s cheek, brushing away errant raindrops. “I can see that,” he said, his voice deep and amused. If there was one thing Lotor was, it was composed. Even with the terrible weather his hair was perfectly pin-straight and styled, and there was not a drop of water on him. He looked like he’d stepped right out of a magazine page. He even had a sleek black umbrella hooked over his arm, still folded up and unused. It was ridiculous how prepared he was, sometimes.

But that was one of the countless things Lance loved about him, he supposed.

“At least one of us brought an umbrella,” he said, giving Lotor a grin. It was hard to be miserable when he was around his boyfriend, seeing as Lotor looked at him like he was a treasure, even when he was wet from rain and flushed and frazzled.

“Shall we go eat?” Lotor asked, as his hand found its way to the small of Lance’s back. “I can smell the café food from here, it’s wonderful.”

Lance smiled, all of his worries melting under Lotor’s gentle attention. Even if he got rained on, coming out to see Lotor was well worth it.


	85. Lance/Lotor - Hairbrush

Some might be surprised to find out how attentive Lotor was to his image. It looked almost effortless on him, like no matter what he did he’d be naturally flawless and put-together. That wasn’t the case, of all. Lance knew first-hand that he had a decent beauty routine, and had quite the skilled hand at things like make-up and styling. He was a very fashionable person, with an eye for detail and colour. Years of putting effort into his image had paid off handsomely, Lance thought.

It was perhaps one of the things Lance loved most about him, since he was so confident in his skin, and could so easily make others feel beautiful. He had a way of pointing out the best features in others that was magnetic and honest. Lance had never quite worked out how he managed that, but he was appreciative of it anyway. Lotor was very good at making him feel wonderful.

When they had time to spend together, they often spent it pampering one another. It was a shared interest of theirs. Of course, there were little moments every day where that sort of thing happened – like when they shared a mirror in the bathroom, or when he helped Lotor apply eyeliner, or when Lotor helped him pick out his clothes for a special occasion. 

But the longer moments, when they had entire evenings to themselves, really made Lance happy. Lotor would sometime take his hands and shape his nails, or spend what felt like hours brushing Lance’s hair, even though it was much shorter than his own. There was nothing quite as relaxing as that, Lance thought. Hair brushing felt very nostalgic to him. It made him sleepy in the most content way possible. 

That evening, they’d had some time for themselves. Between work and family obligations, they were both quite busy, so time together was always treated preciously. Lance had made a bunch of easy-to-eat finger foods that they’d enjoyed with Lotor’s favourite wine. They’d each had time to take baths and, at Lance’s insistence, they were both wearing the soft bathrobes he’d bought them for Christmas the previous year. It was a matching set and he was proud of them in the most embarrassing way possible, but Lotor indulged him, and that was all that mattered to him. 

After enjoying the food and wine, Lotor had broken out his favourite hairbrush – a really fancy one with a carved, silver handle and thick bristles – and ordered Lance to sit in front of him. Knowing what was to come, Lance had eagerly complied. Lotor first teased the knots out of Lance’s hair, prying them apart with slow, gentle pulls of the brush, before continuing. 

“I swear, you must have been a master hair brusher in a past life,” Lance said, on the verge of falling asleep as he fell more and more into Lotor’s lap.

There was a quiet chuckle from behind him. “If you say so.”

Lance smiled. This was the best.


	86. Keith/Lance - Relationship

Keith wasn’t used to relationships. To be fair, he’d never really had one, before Lance. It had never interested him, because he’d never really thought of himself as an emotional person. At least not in a romantic sense. He hadn’t even known if he was capable of feeling those sorts of emotions (he was).

He supposed it was because his parents weren’t really affectionate with one another. He had no doubt they loved each other – at least, he thought they did, even though they never really said it out loud. It was the little things that convinced him, like how his dad would brush his mother’s hair, or how his mother knew exactly how to make his dad’s morning coffee to perfection. That sort of knowledge and easy-going nature had to come from love, didn’t it? 

It was different with Lance. Keith had seen firsthand what he was like around his family, and what his family were like with each other. They were very open with their affections, expressing their joy and happiness in multiple languages and ways. It was crazy to hear exclamations of love come in different forms when Keith was so unused to its most simple one.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t like it, though. It took some getting used to, he wasn’t going to hide that. At first he hadn’t liked any form of affection in public, and it took him a long time to admit out loud that he liked Lance. He realised he’d always let his actions speak for him, but sometimes that wasn’t enough. When someone loved another person as much as he loved Lance, actions simply weren’t enough to express the extent of that feeling.

He’d been stubborn about it, because of course he had, but eventually that stubbornness passed. 

He was more used to it now. It was hard not to be, when he was almost always surrounded by openly affectionate people. Lance’s family accepted him into the fold almost instantly, and he was treated just as warmly as the next person. And Lance was always helping him with his physical boundary anxieties, never pushing him too hard, but always giving him the choice to go beyond what he was used to.

If not for Lance, he was pretty sure he’d be as stiff as ever.

But he liked to think he’d gotten pretty good at the relationship thing, now.


	87. Lance/Lotor/Shiro - Cope

A gentle hand brushed strands of hair away from Lance’s forehead, stirring him from his nap. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

He made a noise he hoped was one of affirmation without opening his eyes, and got a kiss to the forehead in response. He’d been incredibly lethargic lately, more so than usual for his heat cycles. Most omegas had a small period of time, usually between a few days and a week, before their heat, where their bodies underwent changes in preparation for the coming cycle. It meant they slept and ate more, storing energy for when they’d need it most.

He usually had a little more pep to him, though. The nap had helped, but he still felt a little sleepy, and it took him a while to convince his eyes to stay open. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, and it seemed like he hadn’t been asleep for long, because it was still mid-morning. He was warm and content now, and when his tea was carried in, he felt himself perk up a little more.

“Thank you,” he said, grateful, as the mug was carefully passed into his waiting hands.

“It’s my pleasure,” Lotor said.

Like Lance, Lotor was an omega. Most people didn’t expect omegas to mate other omegas, but it wasn’t like it was uncommon. Often, two omegas would search for a third partner, usually a beta or an alpha to balance them out, and to form a triad with. He and Lotor had talked about that in length, since it was something they were both interested in doing. Finding someone that would love them as equals, as equally as they loved each other, was the difficult thing.

There was one alpha, though.

“What are you thinking about?” Lotor nudged Lance over, making room for himself on the couch. He had his own teacup in his hands, and there was something ridiculously handsome about him, Lance thought, when he was just sitting there with little concern for anything outside of the room they currently shared.

Perhaps it was the hormones messing with him. Lotor was handsome in any given circumstance, though.

“Just thinking,” Lance said. He was mindful of not spilling his hot tea as he wormed his way into Lotor’s side, slipping under his arm to rest against him. Lotor was a lean person, but even so, Lance found him comfortable. It was nice being this close to his mate, to be able to scent him so readily and easily. He smelt like cool air and fresh water and it was wonderful. It was a scent so uniquely his that Lance was instantly soothed.

“Must be a serious conversation,” Lotor teased. He had a strange way of teasing, Lance thought. One that wouldn’t register as teasing unless someone knew him well, like Lance did. His tone didn’t noticeably change, but there was a tiny uptilt in his pitch, one that took some concentration to first find. He was a rather unique person, Lance’s mate, tough to read and sometimes a little vindictive but unbiased and loyal. All the more reason to love him.

Lance hummed. He tipped his head against Lotor’s shoulder, resting his eyes for a moment.

He’d thought about becoming a triad for a long time. He and Lotor had been mated for several years now, long enough for their cycles to sync, though Lotor was clearly less affected by his pre-head periods. It could be… hard, sometimes, for them to cope. There was a sort of attention they needed, and when the need was that strong, it could be challenging to provide that for one another. It wasn’t like they didn’t manage, or that their shared heats were troublesome – quite the opposite. Lotor was the most attentive and passionate lover Lance had ever had.

But there was a sense of imbalance between them. 

Lance thought an alpha might help with that.

Specifically, Shiro. 

He was an alpha they both knew very well. Shiro was a very kind man, with a very strong moral compass and a need to help others. He never stepped over their boundaries, and was a good friend. As much as Lance thought Shiro was attractive – he was very, very handsome – it hadn’t been romantic, at first. His heart belonged to Lotor, after all. But the feelings eventually grew, for both him and Lotor. 

They wanted to ask Shiro to join their tried, but the right moment hadn’t popped up yet. He’d been hoping they’d find the time before their heats hit, but it just hadn’t worked out that way. 

Lotor turned his head and pressed his nose into Lance’s hair, prompting Lance to glance at him, inquisitive. Lotor spent a moment scenting his hair, donning a thoughtful expression before he asked, “Thinking about Shiro?”

Lance pouted. “That’s not fair.”

Lotor flashed him a quick, cunning smile. He had the most uncanny way of reading Lance’s scent, like he could translate it directly into Lance’s thoughts. It drove him mad, sometimes.

“But yes,” Lance admitted. He wouldn’t deny that he’d thought about spending his heat with Lotor and Shiro. It was definitely a tempting thought, though he tried not to think about it too much, at least not before asking Shiro to form a triad with them. “Do you think about it?”

“Frequently,” Lotor said, unashamed and unabashed in a way Lance could never be. “More so recently.”

Lance hummed again. If he thought about it, he could smell Lotor’s heat on his scent, something a little headier than usual. It was probably the only indication Lance ever got for when Lotor fell into pre-heat.

Lance took some time to drink his tea. He was content to just sit there, though Lotor reached for a book, holding it in one hand so he could put the other around Lance’s shoulders. 

Sometime later, there was a knock at the door. Lance had almost fallen asleep, and was startled by the noise. Lotor let out a little rumble, which settled him. Lotor gave his shoulder a pat before closing his book and getting up. Lance waited on the couch while he answered the door.

Surprisingly, it was Shiro who had knocked. Lance smelt him before he saw him, and instantly felt a little more awake. 

“Sorry for dropping in without warning,” Shiro said, as he followed Lotor into the lounge room. He was holding a little takeout bag, and had a small smile on his face.

“It’s not a problem, as I mentioned before,” Lotor said, looking amused as he found his way back to Lance’s side, sitting on the couch’s armrest. “You’re always welcome.”

Shiro’s cheeks reddened. He held up the bag. “I thought you guys might like a day off from cooking? I brought food.”

Lance could have swooned, if he wasn’t sitting down. Since they were around Shiro often, and had been for a long time now, Shiro had learned when their cycles were. It was hard to miss, since they routinely had more than a week off from everything, including socialising. Lance knew when Shiro’s ruts were, just about.

As Shiro went to rummage around their kitchen for plates (he knew his way around by now), Lotor ducked down to put his lips to Lance’s ear. “His scent is very telling,” he whispered.

“Oh?”

Lotor hummed. “Want to know?”

Lance gave him a look. Of course Lotor’s weird mind-reading powers would work on other people’s scents, especially when he knew them well enough. 

Lotor chuckled, that deep, chesty laugh that made Lance break out in shivers. “Well,” he said, “he’s very interested in our wellbeing…”

“I already knew that,” Lance said.

“Mhmm. I’d also like to add that I doubt he’ll say no to us,” Lotor murmured, pressing a kiss to Lance’s forehead before straightening. “If you know what I’m talking about.”

Lance flushed, feeling a wave of embarrassment go through him. Shiro’s scent was always welcoming around them, and he had noticed lately that there was an edge of protectiveness to it, but he trusted Lotor’s opinion. If he said he thought Shiro liked them – enough to form a triad with them, if they asked – then he believed that. 

“I’ve got the plates,” Shiro announced, coming back to the lounge room. A worried frown appeared on his face. “Are you alright, Lance? You look flushed.”

Lance just smiled, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”


	88. Keith/Lance - Pacing

Lance felt out of breath as he paced up and down the upstairs hallway. The carpet was soft beneath his bare feet, and he’d managed to flick the little nightlight on with his toes so that he wasn’t walking around in the dark. He had one hand pressed to the small of his back, and the other to the wall, just for a little balance.

The first trimester of his pregnancy had plagued him with morning sickness. Thankfully, it was only during the mornings, or if he smelt coffee (which meant Keith was on a firm coffee ban, much to his disappointment). He’d been so relieved when he got past that phase a few weeks ago.

Now, however, he was plagued by constant restlessness. He was well into the pregnancy now, with a noticeable bump. Keith often told him that the scent of pregnancy was strong on him now, that it was something sweeter and distinctly motherly. Lance found that pleasing, since he was quite happy to be pregnant, even if it was uncomfortable.

Most of the time, when he slipped out of bed or even groaned too loudly, Keith would wake up. His alpha instincts were running wild, more so than Lance had ever noticed before. He was protective and caring and he hovered a little too much, though he was trying not to. Mostly, Lance didn’t mind. He knew Keith was scared of becoming a parent, since he worried he wouldn’t be good enough. Lance knew better, though.

Keith was going to be an amazing father. The way he doted on Lance so much without the baby having been born yet was proof enough.

But sometimes Lance just wanted to do something on his own, and Keith found it difficult to stop himself from worrying. Like when he was throwing up into the toilet; that was a good time to be alone. Pacing up and down the hallway in the middle of the night was another one. He needed to work out his restless energy, and he didn’t want to risk going down the stairs in the dark by himself, so this was the next best thing. He just didn’t need Keith staying up with him, since he needed his rest, too.

Of course, Keith’s instincts wouldn’t let him sleep while his pregnant omega wasn’t nearby. Lance had been pacing for probably about ten minutes when Keith peered out of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Yeah.” Lance rubbed his back, as the tension slowly drained from him. He could feel himself winding down, which was a promising sign. “Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s no problem,” Keith said. He seemed disgruntled that Lance had managed to slip out of bed without him noticing – Lance could see it in the confused little frown on his face.

“I think I’m ready to sleep now,” he said.

Keith blinked, then nodded. “Alright.” He held Lance’s hand as they went back to bed.


	89. Keith/Lance - Walk

Lance grunted as he struggled to slip his shoe on. He was well into his second trimester now, and his stomach had a noticeable bump only just hidden by his jacket. Bending the wrong way made him incredibly uncomfortable and winded, so doing things like reaching up to the top cupboard or leaning over to tie his shoes was incredibly difficult for him. He hated to admit it, but it was.

“Need some help?”

Huffing, Lance gave a reluctant nod. “It’s just hard to bend down,” he said, defensive, as his alpha came to crouch in front of him.

“It’s fine,” Keith said, uncaring, as he took Lance’s shoe in hand to help him slip it on. “I don’t mind.”

He might not have minded, but Lance certainly did. Feeling helpless and out of control of his own body was unsettling and a little disturbing. He was normally quite flexible and bendy, so to have that movement taken away from him made him feel self-conscious, like he wasn’t in his own skin. It was an experience a lot of pregnant omegas struggled with, his doctor had told him. His baby bump had grown rather rapidly over a short period of time, almost like it was overnight (though it certainly wasn’t), so his mind hadn’t quite caught up with it yet. His body was spending too much energy helping his baby grow to focus on other things like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Keith asked. He was trying to disguise his worry, but Lance could see right through him. As his pregnancy progressed, Keith was becoming increasingly protective, as most alphas did. He was doing his best not to impinge on Lance’s independence, but it was difficult to hold back one’s instincts. Lance himself knew that well enough; his omega instincts had him running wild, sometimes.

“I’ll be fine,” Lance said, resting his hands on Keith’s shoulders to balance himself as his dutiful mate helped him. “It’s just a walk, I’m not going that far.”

“You’ve got your phone?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll call me if something goes wrong? Anything?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear.”

Keith gave his hip a soft pat. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be…” He waved a hand.

“It’s okay,” Lance said. It was. He knew Keith didn’t mean anything by his questions, so he never got upset. It could be frustrating, of course, but it wasn’t anybody’s fault. If this was the price to pay for having a child, then he’d pay it a thousand times over.

“Okay,” Keith said, more to himself than to Lance as he stood, “okay, have fun then. I’ll have my phone with me if you need me.”

“I know,” Lance said, unable to stop himself from smiling a little. “I won’t be long.”

He could feel Keith watching him as he made his way outside. It was a nice day, which was why he was inspired to take a walk. It would be winter soon, so he was determined to enjoy the last few warm days left of the season.

Their neighbourhood was quite nice. Lance felt fine as he walked down the street, letting the sun warm whatever skin he had exposed. It wasn’t warm enough to burn him, but it was enough to keep him comfortable in between the chilly breezes typical of autumn. He kept up a fairly brisk pace, knowing that if he tired himself out now, resting later would be so satisfying. 

It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d walked by himself. But it was definitely the first time he’d walked by himself while being noticeably pregnant, and it eventually started feeling different from usual. Maybe Keith’s worrying was getting to him, but he felt a little too exposed, or like someone was watching him. It was like something was prickling at his spine, and he didn’t like it. The wind grew a little colder, and he swore the same car had driven past him at least twice.

Sometimes when he got like this he didn’t know if it was instincts or just a pregnancy thing. His instincts were heightened because of his protectiveness for his baby, but he was also flooded with hormones that he’d only had a few months to get used to, which wasn’t that long at all. If it was just hormones, than he’d be embarrassed by his reactions. If it wasn’t, then he felt like he should follow his instincts.

As much as he’d wanted some time to himself, he suddenly wanted Keith so bad he felt desperate to get home.

He decided to cut his walk short, and turned on his heel to head back. He didn’t regret going out, since it was still a nice day and he liked having a little independence. But home looked really appealing right then.

It didn’t take him long to get back. He walked a little faster than he usually did, and was a bit puffed out when he all but threw himself inside, breathing out heavily as he did.

“Lance?” Keith appeared in the kitchen doorway, a confused look on his face. “You’re back already?”

“Yeah,” Lance said.

Keith’s frown deepened as he sniffed the air, scenting Lance’s worry. He strode closer in an instant, gently taking Lance by the shoulders to give him a stern once over. “What happened?”

Oddly enough, Lance was instantly soothed by Keith’s predictable protectiveness. He never felt safer than he did when he was with Keith. “Nothing, I think,” he eventually answered. “I just freaked out over nothing.”

Keith’s ruffled look eased away. He always understood what Lance was trying to say even if the words wouldn’t come. It was something he’d picked up after they’d mated, like he could read Lance’s expression like a book. Alphas could sometimes pick up emotions on scents, especially in their families, and Keith was no exception. 

“That’s nothing to worry about,” Keith said, lifting his hands to cup Lance’s cheeks. “It happens, right? Sometimes our instincts make us react in certain ways.”

“I don’t know if it was over nothing or not,” Lance stressed. “I thought there was a car, and… I just don’t know if I was thinking too hard about it.”

“Probably doesn’t help that I hover so much.” A little, almost self-conscious smile twitched at the corner of Keith’s lips. His thumbs rubbed under Lance’s eyes, smoothing over his skin. “Sometimes it’s best to follow your instincts.”

Lance nodded. Keith’s reassurance made him feel better.

“If you want, I can join you sometimes,” he offered. “Or you can take Cosmo.”

“But I know you like your walks with him…”

“Well, I’m sure he won’t complain about two walks.”

Lance thought about it, biting his lip. “Maybe I’ll take Cosmo next time?”

“Of course.” Keith pressed a kiss to Lance’s forehead. “Do you want something to eat? Drink?”

“Yes, please.”

Lance went to sit in the lounge room as Keith disappeared back into the kitchen. He could see Cosmo in the yard through the window, lounging around in a patch of sunlight. He was massive for a dog, and had already proven to be just as protective of Lance as his owner. It was like Cosmo understood Lance was pregnant – he got defensive when they were out and anyone came too close to Lance, and now couldn’t be persuaded to sleep in his kennel, instead insisting on sleeping at the foot of their bed every night.

Walking with Cosmo would definitely make him feel a little more confident. He wasn’t an invalid or anything, but being pregnant did make it harder to move around, and there was no way he could run.

In any case, Lance felt better already. It was amazing how easy Keith comforted him.


	90. Keith/Lance - Blissfully

Sleeping during the when he knows there’s nothing for him to worry about, and no pressing chores or projects need to be finished, was one of Lance’s favourite things. He didn’t often get time to sleep during the day unless he was extremely tired, or if he’d stayed up too late the previous night.

That weekend, however, had been a nice and slow one. He didn’t have to be concerned about work or household chores, since he and Keith had gotten them out of the way pretty quickly. While their last load of washing spun around and round in the washing machine, they’d decided to lie down on the couch together. It was a bit of a small fit, so Lance was practically on top of Keith, and Keith’s arms were tight around him. 

It was really no wonder they fell asleep, of course. They were just too comfortable.

Sunlight fell in from open windows, and they hadn’t turned the television on, so the house was blissfully quiet. Lance drifted in and out of sleep, lulled by the faint beating of Keith’s heart beneath his ear. He felt like all his muscles had melted, and like there was no way he could ever get back up, not even if he wanted to. 

He supposed that it was rare they got the time to just relax like this. They’d been rather busy lately – there were always periods of activity and inactivity, and they’d been very active. Taking a breather that morning felt like the right thing to do. It felt like it had been a while since Lance had just… stopped. Just stopped and rested for a bit.

He didn’t dream, or anything. His sleep was shallower than that. But he was still comfortable. When the washing machine beeped to tell him it was done, he was surprised that that much time had passed. He didn’t expect it, since he didn’t feel entirely asleep. 

When the beeping was done, he reluctantly lifted his head, blinking owlishly several times until his vision cleared. His gaze settled on Keith’s relaxed face – he’d somehow slept through the machine’s beeping, and was still dozing, his expression open and soft. Lance just smiled at him, dropping his head back down to Keith’s chest. After a moment, he caught track of Keith’s heartbeat again, and was lulled back into sleeping.

The chores could wait a little while.


	91. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Corruption

Lance provided a… _unique_ service.

It was a well-known fact that unifying a spirit to a physical body would cure both of any magical-related ailments. He meant ‘spirit’ not in the sense of a soul or a ghost, but as in a spirit born from the elements, not the body. Spirits emerged from the pull and push of the ocean’s tide, from the hissing steam of volcanic rivers, from the growls and snarls of thunderstorms. They weren’t humanoids, or magic creatures, or beasts. They weren’t physical in the way those born on the earthly plane were. 

He knew this better than most. 

His family was one with magic born in its blood. They had a talent for weaving magic particles into tangible things – spells, potions, attacks if need be. There were parts of the world were magic was much more abundant, like ancient ruins and great forests protected by dryads and places where fantastical magic beasts had unleased their power, like dragon caves. Members of Lance’s family had the inherent gift of being able to physically see these places: specifically, they could see the abundant amount of magic particles that floated in the air there. To them, they looked like little glowing sparks.

A lot of the time, messing with magic or using it without the proper training could lead to disaster. People who were the strongest with magic, the ones who were leagues beyond the next strongest mage, were called heroes. Many tried to take shortcuts to becoming heroes – they’d make pacts with summoned demons, or try and consume a large amount of magic particles with a body that couldn’t withstand their energy.

The result was always terrible. Unless on the off, very rare chance they were a magic prodigy, that amount of energy tore them apart from the inside out. It was dangerous and explosive and incredibly immoral, though not quite illegal, unfortunately.

For the unaware, who used magic improperly without ill intentions, the consequences were far less severe. They’d become ill, or experience changes in their behaviour that were negative and aggressive. As long as it wasn’t extremely severe, like in the cases of people who welcomed demons into their bodies for example, then it could be reversed. Not completely, but enough to give them control again.

That was what Lance did. By collecting magic particles – a lot of them – into one source, his body, he could them coalesce them into a singular being, a spirit. Sometimes he was able to summon a spirit already in existence, but it was easier to create them, he found. He could then transfer that spirit into a physical being, usually a humanoid of some kind, and the magic would heal them.

He lived by the sea, because he liked the feel of the magic produced by the waves. His siblings, at least the ones currently in the business (and thus the ones whose time wasn’t preoccupied by caring for their family’s farm, or their own children) lived in other areas, where the magic was different. He was pretty sure his sister Veronica was living in an underground ruin, because of course she’d like the magic there.

Like most of his family, and others like them, he could sense when large amounts of magic particles were approaching. Namely, when a really strong person or being was nearby. Lance was used to them coming and going. A lot of large magical beasts migrated through the water with the seasons, leaving impressive trails of magic behind them. It could be a little lonely when he was the only one enjoying them, seeing such magnificent trails of lights invisible to the eyes of others around him.

That morning he was by the sea, as he often was, when he sensed a great presence approaching. It was like a little alarm was going off in his mind. A shiver went down his spine as he glanced towards it, though he didn’t see anything. He lived slightly adjacent to the town so he could be closer to the sea. Whoever had arrived would need to make their way through the town before getting to him, if that was their intention. 

He was sure it was.

Some hours later, he was proved correct.

Two people appeared on his doorstep. He was waiting for them, having spent much of the morning collecting magic particles from the shore, where they washed up with the tide. One was helping the other walk – he had dark hair and strangely violet eyes, which indicated he was proficient with some form of magic. The other was taller and broader in the shoulders, with one arm and a thick, noticeable scar across the bridge of his nose.

“Welcome,” he said, as he glanced them over. It was the larger one that concerned him. The magic particles wicking off his skin were black and pulsing, which wasn’t healthy. Something terrible had found its way inside him.

“I’ve been everywhere looking for someone to help him,” violet eyes said. Despite his firm voice and expression, there was an edge of desperation to him that appealed to Lance’s desire to help them. “No one has been able to.”

“I can,” Lance said. He had no doubt of his abilities. Even though he could see that they doubted him, his confidence was steady. He’d dealt with worse than this before. “Come in.”

He led him to the furthermost room in his home, the one that opened up onto the ocean. He flung the doors open so that the breeze could come in. The room wasn’t close enough to feel the spray of the water, but at the moment when the tide was highest he could. It was wonderful.

The room had very little furniture. There was a mat on the floor that doubled as a patient bed with a blanket, which he indicated for the larger man to lay down on. There was a little shrine sat between the open spaces the doors made with incense burning. A perfectly intact conch shell from the beach sat on its pedestal, it’s opalescent outside catching rays of sunlight beautifully. Some of his tools of the trade had been placed beside the bed in advance – a shallow dish filled with ocean water, a blue crystal he’d made by condensing magic particles (one he’d let the tide smooth out over time, with the help of magic to speed up the process), and a damp cloth.

“What happened?” Lance asked, as he sat on his knees on the floor beside the man, holding one palm over his forehead. 

“A dark mage took possession of his body and corrupted his magic particles,” violet eyes explained, sitting on the other side. “He was used as a soldier in the Black War, but rescued.”

Lance pursed his lips. The Black War was a minor-calamity event, which in itself was terrible – calamity events were considered world-ending, so minor ones were a step beneath that. A dark druid corrupted an entire forest of powerful magic particles, turning the dryads there into puppets that then built an army from normal people and beasts by continuing the chain of corruption. Just the fact that the druid was capable of overpowering dryads, one of the most powerful natural beings known, had been shocking.

In the end, a hero named Allura had sacrificed herself to defeat the dark druid, thus ending the Black War. There was a rumour that Allura’s heart was so pure and full of light that her image was transposed into the stars. No cartographers had officially named the constellation, but many travellers believed that following the Allura stars would lead them to light. Lance believed it.

But that was beside the point. The Black War had ended some time ago. It was impressive that this man had managed to live so long with such corrupted magic inside of him.

“Can you help him?” violet eyes asked.

“Yes,” Lance repeated. A blue glow appeared in his palm, and as he moved it over the man’s face, the tension on his face eased into sleep. He hadn’t been fully conscious to begin with, so nudging him unconsciousness was easy enough. It would be less painful for him this way. “Though it may take some time.”

“As long as it takes,” violet eyes said, a concerned but resolute look in his eyes. 

Lance nodded. He liked that determination. “Your name?”

Violet eyes blinked, leaning back as if he hadn’t realised he hadn’t introduced himself. “Keith,” he said. “That’s Shiro.”

“My name is Lance.”

“I know.”

Lance couldn’t resist the smile that twitched at his face. “Good.”

“What can I do to help?”

Lance paused. It was unusual for his clients to be so ready to help. Usually they were too concerned or ill to be of use. 

Not that it mattered.

“Nothing, unfortunately,” Lance said. “I’m going to be honest. This kind of magic – that is, the kind corrupting Shiro – is very dependent. I’ve seen it before. It binds itself to the magic already inside a being, finds the source, and corrupts it. If I remove the corruption and his magic source has already been consumed, then he very well might die. There’s little to be done about that.”

The hard look on Keith’s face began to waver.

“But take that warning with a grain of salt. It’s worst case scenario,” Lance continued. “I haven’t heard of Black War victims surviving this long without treatment, so that could be a sign that part of his magic is still uncorrupted. You shouldn’t give up hope yet.”

Keith nodded. “I won’t. Not until…”

Lance nodded, too. He understood. Gently, he put his palm to Shiro’s forehead, feeling his temperature. He was fevered, but that was to be expected. Carefully, he brushed a strand of hair away from Shiro’s forehead. They were a handsome pair, these two. It was a shame they’d met in such unfortunate circumstances. 

“Alright.” Lance drew his hand back and let out a steady breath. He reached for the smooth blue crystal with his magic, letting it hover in the air before gently depositing it in the centre of Shiro’s forehead. “This will serve as a funnel for the corrupted magic particles. I’d advise you to leave the room, since this isn’t going to be pleasant to watch, but I doubt you’d leave even if I begged.”

Keith gave him a weary smile. 

“Thought so.” Once the crystal was balanced, he dampened the cloth in the shallow dish once more, and infused some magic into it. After this, it would help bring down Shiro’s inevitable fever. He used his magic on the remaining seawater in the dish, bringing it up to form an orb between his hands. His back was to the open doors facing the ocean, but when he closed his eyes, he could sense all the magic particles in the air, just as well as if his eyes were open.

After he’d pulled a decent amount into the water orb, he opened his eyes again. Everything looked like it was glowing blue, but that was only to his gaze. Magic was building up at a rapid pace, each particle forming and bonding with the one next to it. Slowly but surely, a spirit was forming. He had to make it strong enough to impact the corruption inside Shiro.

Eventually, he felt like it was.

“Let’s begin,” he said.


	92. Keith/Lance - Reckless

There was little Keith wouldn’t do for his mate.

Like most dragons, he’d been born with a destined partner tied to his fate. It was as he matured – over decades, because dragons grew slowly, despite their inherent strength – that he felt the first stirrings of fate attempting to guide him. He’d resisted it at first, feeling too much like he had no control over his own life.

But, like all of his kind, he’d soon learned better. Dragons were typically solitary creatures, living with none other than their mate and offspring. Sometimes family units or small flocks would live in close proximity, but it was a rare thing. A mass of dragons required an equally massive food source, which was difficult to find, let alone manage effectively.

When he was strong enough to be on his own, and his wings were large enough to intimidate other dragons, he set off to find his mate. It wasn’t the easiest thing – if it was, then surely everyone would take advantage of it, and find no meaning in it. At least, that’s what Keith believed. Still, it was somewhat frustrating travelling so far and finding nothing. At times he wondered if his mate had even been born yet, since dragons had one of the longest lifespans of all beings.

In the end, he found his mate by the sea. It wasn’t a place a fire dragon like himself would think to look, but fate’s hands guided him in the right direction. 

His mate was a water nymph. Lance was quite… loud. He was outspoken and opinionated and incredibly competitive, and Keith loved him. It had certainly taken some time for them to get along, but fate had paired them for a reason. Accepting that felt as natural as breathing, once their shared competitiveness lost its arrogant edge.

Keith thought himself very lucky to have Lance, for a variety of different reasons. He liked Lance’s rampant competitiveness because it complimented his own, and he thought that was a rare thing to find in another person. Nymphs also had a long life span, which eased Keith’s worries about out-living his mate. He also found Lance quite physically attractive, which was a bonus. He was generally uninterested in people, but he was very interested in Lance.

Their bond was strong now, years after their first meeting. They lived in a forest bracketed by a tall mountain ridge on one side and the ocean on the other, to appease both their tastes. There were other dragons in the mountains, so Keith could keep in touch with his people. There were plenty of nymphs nearby, too, so Lance never felt isolated or lonely.

For the most part, their little home was well-protected from threats. The ocean was a mighty shield, as were the mountains. Poachers rarely moved past either because both were treacherous and unforgiveable. Other threats came in the form of territory wars, which was something that was unwise to ignore. All sorts of creatures wandered these lands, and many were violent beyond reason.

Keith believed it was his duty to protect his mate and their home. That wasn’t to say Lance couldn’t protect himself, because he was more than capable. Keith just liked dealing with things so Lance didn’t have to dirty his hands. 

That evening, he was listening to the forest around him as he always did. He was in his dragon form, and was thus outside, since like this he was larger than the house. His senses were far more heightened like this than when he was in his humanoid form, so he took advantage of that to listen to the world around him. It was relatively quiet, which he expected. Nightfall was one of the only quiet times, when day creatures were hunkering down for the evening, and evening creatures were stirring into wakefulness for the night.

But there was a strange scent on the air. It took a slight change of wind for him to catch it, which ruffled all his scales in the worst way. He stood, shaking out his wings as he did. The movement drew Lance’s attention, who tripped his head back to look up at Keith from where he’d been sitting in the grass by their home, reading.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Something strange,” Keith said. Only those he chose to understand him could hear his thoughts when he was in this form. 

Lance closed his book. “Shall we go see what it is?”

There was a bad feeling in Keith’s stomach, so he shook his head. “Stay here. I’ll deal with it.”

Lance raised a brow, but did little other than roll his eyes. “Alright, but don’t do anything reckless.”

Keith ducked his head down low and gently pressed his nose to Lance’s hair. He breathed out, and Lance’s hair frizzed up from the warmth of his breath, making Lance smack at him with an annoyed sound. Keith hardly felt Lance’s ‘attacks’, and it made him rumble with amusement.

“Not the hair, not the hair!” Lance complained, pushing himself away from Keith’s snuffling nose. “Don’t you have to go defend my honour, or something?”

Keith made a noise of agreement. Despite Lance’s teasing, he could tell Lance was concerned. He wanted to go with Keith. Still, he would wait here, if Keith asked him to. It was easier for Keith to move at rapid speeds when he wasn’t concerned about shielding Lance. He was quite a bit faster than his little mate, after all. The wings helped.

After watching Lance disappear back into their home, Keith made his way into the forest. It was a bit of a squeeze getting his dragon form through the trees, but he managed well enough. He’d done this plenty of times.

The scent grew stronger the further he walked. He intrinsically knew where neighbouring territories were, and stuck to his own. When he reached the edge, he waited. Uneasiness grew in his belly, and he dug his talons into the earth, too restless to sit still. He could feel heat building up in his mouth. He had to be careful not to start a forest fire.

Eventually, the owners of the strange scent emerged from the surrounding trees. 

It was a pack of lesser direwolves. On their own, they were easy to take out. A lone wolf had no strength. Sometimes direwolves evolved into higher versions of themselves, known simply as direwolves, that were less animal and more ‘human’, in the loosest sense of the term. They often lived with werewolf packs, since they had a shared mentality. 

But these were mere creatures. Feral, aggressive, and foul-smelling, Keith wouldn’t tolerate them entering his territory, or going anywhere near his precious mate.

A warning growl escaped from between his bared fangs. There were only six lesser direwolves, a little under half what their normal pack size was. One against six was never fair, but Keith was confident in his strength. 

The wolves echoed his snarls, their hackles raised. Even with a half-pack, they moved as one, lunging with their teeth bared. Keith’s scales were tough, but there were parts of him like his belly and wings that were vulnerable. He kept his wings in to protect them, and his mouth – teeth, fire – were more than enough to protect his belly.

Really, he could handle lesser direwolves.

A burst of fire incinerated one, and a swipe of his talons shredded another. A wolf tore into his bowed neck, but he shook the mutt off, and beat his wings to force it back. He was frustrated that he couldn’t just burn them all, but that would endanger the forest, and he couldn’t do that. 

His talons would have to do.

When it was done, he was stained by wolf blood, and his mouth tasted like ash. Animals would scavenge the corpses, so he left them were they were and launched himself into the sky. A forceful flash of his wings and a quick barrel-roll flicked most of the blood off of him, but he’d definitely have to take a trip to a nearby lake to clean himself off. Lance hated it when he was dirty.

It took some time, but he finally made his way home, shifting back to his human form as he did. He found everything as he left it, and Lance waiting for him inside.

“Alright?”

“Just wolves,” he explained. 

Lance gave him a doubtful onceover, frowning as he did. He waved a palm, and water collected between his fingertips, darting towards Keith and over his skin as light as a feather. Once he was done, the water disappeared, and a satisfied look came to Lance’s face.

Water nymphs were exceptionally good healers. A single appraisal could find any sort of injury.

“Come on, I made dinner,” Lance said, ushering Keith inside. “My big, protective dragon must be hungry.”

This time, Keith rolled his eyes. “Would you have rather been covered in wolf blood?”

Lance pouted at him.

“Though so.”


	93. Keith/Lance - Wrong

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!”

“Stop squirming Lance, you’re making it worse.”

Lance pawed at his father’s hands, trying to get them off his ear. There was nothing quite as embarrassing as being dragged around like a scolded child. He could already feel heat blooming in his cheeks, and it made him avoid everyone’s faces as he was taken to the royal hall.

“We weren’t doing anything,” Lance tried.

Alfor gave him a disapproving look out of the corner of his eye. No amount of pouting could sway him today, it seemed (though it usually worked on him). 

Lance felt uneasiness twist in his belly. Okay, so he knew he’d done something wrong. Something expressly against the rules. But it was a stupid rule, and he would argue that to his grave. There were some things worth risking punishment.

Seeing Keith was one of those things.

As the Prince of Altea, Lance was meant to uphold the rules of the royal court and maintain an appropriate image. He was second in line to the throne after his older sister, Allura, so there was a certain degree of relaxation in the rules he followed, but that didn’t mean he was allowed to run amuck. Usually, he didn’t test the rules, anyway. He respected his parents and knew that there was a whole country relying on the rule of their family, and that was something he made a point of remembering.

But there was just some rules he didn’t understand.

See, Altea had been warring with the Galra states for decades before Lance was born. He’d sat through countless history lessons and lectures from both his tutors and his parents, but he still couldn’t quite comprehend the extent of it. Recent years had brought around a tentative truce, but there were still strict guidelines in place – travel and trade between the two countries was severely monitored, with both requiring certain passports and permissions as a condition of entry. There were obviously anti-violence rules in place, too, with all meetings taking place in halls where weapons were prohibited.

Above all, there were rules that members of the royal, noble, and guard families had to follow: there was no fornicating between Alteans and the Galra. Not only would it cause significant political problems, but there were no laws in place for foreign marriages, and no way to fairly divide and monitor money, taxes, and laws imposed on both members of said marriage. Rules that Alteans had to follow were not the same as ones the Galra had to follow, after all. Not to mention there was nowhere for them to legally live, since neither could inhabit nor own land in the other’s home country.

Lance thought it was a stupid rule.

Sure, a lot of it was temporary. Even he, as the second in line for the throne, could understood that. The current laws between the Altean people and the Galra were there to keep things clean while years of warfare and fighting were slowly but surely smoothed over and forgiven. It would take more than just Lance’s lifetime to fix decades, even centuries, of strife.

But how would their peoples ever come to forgive each other, let alone know and learn from one another, if they were kept separate?

He supposed he was a little biased on the matter.

The person he kept breaking the rules for was a Galra called Keith. He had come to Altea as a member of the Galra’s royal guard, of whom were charged with escorting and protecting their delegates during their stay. He was fun to be around, when he could be cajoled into giving up his stiff guard act. 

Even though they both knew it was wrong in the eyes of the countries, they grew closer during Keith’s stay. Lance found him fun to be around. Keith was just so different from other people he knew. He didn’t treat Lance gingerly because of his status as a Prince, and wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, even if it was to insult Lance. That may have sounded terrible, but to Lance, it was great. It was honest.

And he did find Keith incredibly attractive. That certainly helped matters. How could he not? Keith was perhaps a bit pale for a Galra, his skin a light lavender, but it made his violet eyes stand out even more. They turned gold when he was mad, or when his wilder Galra features came forwards (extra flurry ears, extended fangs, that sort of thing) which was insanely gorgeous. With those magnificent eyes of his and his dark hair, angular jaw, and intense personality, he was everything Lance didn’t know he wanted in a person.

Things were easy between them though. At least not from a legal standpoint. Even with their clashing competitiveness, there was something easy in their interactions. Something exciting and fiery. The law didn’t care about that. They were from two different countries and that meant they couldn’t even be friends, let alone more.

Lance had already been warned by his parents and the royal advisor to stay away. It was difficult for him to hide what he was feeling – he was often told that his face was an open book, and he believed it. 

He just couldn’t stay away from Keith. If they couldn’t talk in public, they’d do it in private. They’d taken to sneaking around the castle at night to meet up where others wouldn’t see. It was hard to hide, but what other choice did Lance have?

He liked Keith.

Liked him a lot.

His father definitely didn’t approve.

The doors to the royal hall were flung open as the king approached. Inside, Lance’s mother, sister, and the royal advisor, Coran, were already waiting. Standing across from them were a few of the Galra delegates, including the head of the guard, Kolivan, who had his palm firmly planted on a frowning Keith’s head.

Lance’s cheeks were definitely bright red by the time his father let go of his ear. 

“I’m sorry about this trouble, King Alfor,” Kolivan said, pushing down on Keith’s head to make him bow.

“Really, I fear it’s my son causing mayhem,” Alfor said, casting Lance another look.

Lance frowned, fixedly looking away. 

“It can’t all be blamed on the Prince, sir. My subordinate wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want to.” Kolivan gave Keith the same cutting look Alfor had given Lance, and it made Keith scowl something furious. 

“This has gone on long enough.” Alfor addressed Lance directly this time, making Lance glance up at him. “You mistreating our laws disturbs the foundations on which they are being built, and I will not tolerate it anymore, Lance.” Alfor’s expression softened a little. For all his strictness, he was a fair father, and Lance knew he didn’t like upsetting his children. “If this happens again, there will be severe consequences. And not just for you.”

Lance’s eyes widened. His gaze jumped over to Keith, who was staring at him with the same wide-eyed, concerned look. Getting punished themselves was one thing, but getting the other punished too? Lance couldn’t allow that. And he knew Keith wouldn’t allow him to take the fall, either. 

Upset, Lance turned his eyes to the floor.

His father sighed, and patted his shoulder. “Lance…”

Lance clenched his jaw. He didn’t look up.

The hand on his shoulder disappeared. “Go on, you’ve got things to do,” Alfor said, nudging Lance away. “Take these warnings to heart, Lance. Even if they hurt.”

He didn’t meet anyone else’s eyes as he fled the royal hall. He wasn’t sure why his heart was squeezing as much as it did then. Embarrassment, for sure, but there was something else. He didn’t want to stop seeing Keith, but causing problems with the Galra would be a very bad thing. If Keith got in a lot of trouble because of him… he wouldn’t forgive himself if that happened.

His father would expect him to return to his studies for the day, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to. Instead he headed for his private courtyard, a space his parents had given to him where no one could enter without his permission. It was a small space, one that opened up from his bedroom and the adjacent corridor. It was where he could have true privacy.

Recently, the only person he’d let into it was Keith. There was a gardener who came to take care of the overflow of plants, one that Lance always helped since he wanted to learn more, but other than that it was just him. He expected it to be empty.

He was surprised that it wasn’t.

Keith looked out of breath. He wasn’t normally very expressive, but there was a worried set to his mouth, and his eyebrows were somewhat upturned. “Sorry,” was the first thing he said. “I know I shouldn’t be here…”

“I’m glad you are,” Lance interrupted, closing the door coming from his bedroom behind him. Keith must have gotten in from the other one – Lance had given him a key. “I…” The words couldn’t come. He stared at Keith, hoping that whatever was in his eyes was enough. 

Keith gave him a small smile. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.” That was partially a lie. “I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”

“I won’t.” Keith reached down to clasp both of Lance’s hands in his own, and pressed a lingering kiss to the centre of his forehead. “I can’t just forget about you, Lance. Even if it’s wrong.”

Lance nodded his agreement. Keith’s words reassured him, and he felt that squeezing feeling in his heart retreat. He knew that their connection wasn’t wrong, that only their unstable laws kept them apart. But one day, those laws would have footing, and would be relaxed. He knew that for sure, because one day, he’d be helping decide them.

Until then, if this was all he could have, then he’d take it.

“Good thing I gave you a key,” Lance said, offering a shaky smile.

Keith huffed out a breath of laughter. “Good thing no one else has one.”

That made Lance smile properly.


	94. Keith/Lance - Refracting

Light glinted off of the windows as Lance wandered down the exterior corridor. To his left were the classrooms, all empty, all bathed in peachy afternoon sunlight. To his right was the courtyard that separated the west and east wings of the academy. Three white pavilions sat evenly along the lengthy courtyard, surrounded by stone paths and neat hedges. Large trees with overhanging boughs offered shade. 

It was lovely. 

The academy prided itself on being capable of anything, and that included maintaining its appearance. The entirety of the academy grounds seemed to glow, like the smallest fraction of light could trigger a kaleidoscope of colours. When he paused and closed his eyes, letting magic spark behind them, everything around him came into sharp relief. He could see the veins in the leaf drifting down from the pavilion’s roof, and the pollen flicking off the wings of the butterfly that had perched itself on the railing separating the corridor from the grassed courtyard. 

It only lasted a moment. But for that moment, he could see everything.

Seconds passed, and the spark of magic behind his eyes disappeared, sinking back into him. Those who showed aptitude for the arts of magic were brought to an academy like this one and taught how to use it. Most people – that is, the ones who had no skill for magic – didn’t know of its existence. It didn’t stick in their mind, instead flowing through their consciousness like sand between fingers. There was nothing to grip onto. Even if a person saw magic right before their eyes, they’d forget the moment they blinked.

He thought it was the strangest thing.

But fair, in some ways. Most people couldn’t use magic. Less than half a percent of the population could. It was a wondrous thing, magic. To know about it and have no ability to use it would have been cruel, he thought.

There were consequences to its use, of course. There was no saying where magic came from. Some debated it was in the air, though others believed it developed inside of people, like an organ that had only just started to function. However it came to be, magic was stored in what was collectively known as a Well. Taking too much from that Well would deplete a person of their energy, and could cause horrendous injuries. It was like overworking a muscle. People who pulled too much magic from their Wells could black out, or have terrible cuts sheer up their arms, or go blind. It was dangerous.

The academy was there to prevent that, though. It taught them how to use magic, and how to fraction it out of their Wells piece by piece. Lance imagined it like an ocean inside of him, one he could draw water from drop by drop in order to perform magic. 

He continued wandering down the corridor. It was a cool afternoon, enough to wear a jumper, despite the glowing sunlight. All of the students had returned to their dorms, and he was left to wander around as freely as he liked. This corridor bordered both the west and east buildings, so when he reached a corner, he slipped out from between them and found himself on the grounds facing the rest of the grounds. 

Both the west and east blocks were on a slight hill, so from this vantage point, he could see the spire of the glass cathedral to his right, and the administration block straight ahead. Surrounding the entire academy was a dense thicket of trees, and beyond that, a tall iron fence. It kept normal humans out. He could just see the gate around the edge of the administration block, since the trees had been cleared to make a road up into the heart of the grounds.

He liked this time of day, especially from this vantage point. Since all of the academy was higher up than the surrounding city, he had a view of it stretched out before him. There were skyscrapers glinting in the sunlight, and the distant thrum of activity was always present in the air, if one listened closely enough. The academy felt removed from society, since it was protected by magic, but seeing the city reminded him that he hadn’t gone too far.

Once more, he let magic build behind his eyes. When he opened them once more, little had changed. The world had become more saturated, more susceptible to the fractions of light reflecting off of smooth surfaces. 

There was one difference, though.

A great sword had appeared in the sky. It towered over all the skyscrapers, and pierced the clouds above them. Magic energy writhed off of its sharp edge. What looked like blue gems were set into its pommel, trailing down the blade and hovering in the air beside it like drops of water suspended in gravity. Elegant, decorative twists of metal spun up from its hilt, like the kind seen on expensive rapiers. It was beautiful and intimidating, and Lance was utterly fixated on it.

As the spark of magic in his eyes faded, so too did the sword from his vision. 

But not before he saw another glide into space beside it. Equally as large, equally as powerful, but different in every other way imaginable. This sword was not made of silver, but of black metal; it held no gems but instead deep lines of purple light shaped like tribal markings decorated its length. It was vicious and sharp, and instead of refracting light, it greedily ate it up, casting an untouchable shadow around each of its edges.

See, each academy was run by the most powerful magic user in the city. There was only one academy per city, if a city had any magic potential in the first place. Magic was a very honest thing, and so it marked the most powerful with a sword hanging above their heads, a reminder that mistreating it would cause mass chaos. If a sword fell, it took the city with it.

But that was a rare thing. 

Still, Lance recognised the second sword. His academy’s principle belonged to the silver one: their view on magic was that it was a thing to be earned, not a privilege or a right. The owner of the black believed in the opposite, that magic was a thing to be dominated, to be expressly and strictly controlled. Neither interpretation was right, nor wrong. It was simply a way or thinking, and a way of teaching.

Though Lance clearly preferred the way he’d been taught. He thought of magic almost like a friend, not a thing to be oppressed. 

He couldn’t help but smile to himself a little as he headed towards one of the large trees dotting the grounds. It was one that overlooked the road into the academy, and one with a view of the cathedral, with its magnificent glass spire. 

The emergence of that second sword meant that another academy’s leader had arrived in the city. It wasn’t an unusual thing. They never met an academy grounds, hence why both swords were hovering over the city. But their students were free to travel between academies, with certain permissions.

Lance knew one person with those permissions. And if that black sword was here, than Keith was bound to be right behind it, so he waited.

Sure enough, a figure eventually appeared coming up the path towards him. Lance’s uniform was a mix of pale blue and white, so Keith’s black clothes stood out quite a bit. He raised a hand in greeting when he noticed Lance waiting for him.

“You’re not at the dorms,” Keith said, as he edged beneath the shade of the tree.

“I was bored,” Lance replied. Really, he just got a little restless sometimes. Wandering around usually cured him of that. “Has your leader come to talk to mine, again?”

Keith hummed. He sat down beside Lance, resting his back against one of the tree’s protruding roots. “I got permission to visit.”

Lance couldn’t help but grin. “I noticed.”

Magic glittered behind Keith’s eyes. He was one of the most powerful magic users Lance knew, but he was never aggressive towards Lance. Rather, he often seemed like he was using his magic to impress Lance, even without realising. It made him feel all warm inside when he realised that.

“Look,” Keith said, holding out his palm. A purple grid of light bloomed into life above his skin, spinning on its axis ever so slowly. Above it, two tiny swords – exact replicas of the ones belonging to their leaders – rotated side by side. 

“Wow,” Lance breathed, leaning closer to get a better look. Keith’s control over the details of his magic was becoming better and better. That was something Lance was teaching him. Sometimes magic was best found in the small details, after all. Keith was more used to using magic as an explosive power, as per the teachings of his academy. But it was nice to see things in a different light every now and then.

“I did it like you said,” Keith explained, a touch of pride in his voice. He nudged one of the swords with his fingertips, making it wobble, though it straightened itself out. “I’m getting better.”

“You are,” Lance grinned.

Keith closed his fist, and the small swords disappeared. “How about you?”

Lance’s grin widened. They’d been exchanging teaching techniques, since it was only fair. And Lance liked to think he was getting much better at using magic like an explosive power. He held out his own hand, and opened up his Well. 

Magic coalesced in his palm, sending a whirlwind of air streaming past them. Shocks of leaves blew off the tree above them, and the grass around them flattened. There was a hissing whine on the air that rose in pitch as energy condensed in his palm, folding in on itself like origami over and over until he felt like it was a physical weight in his palm.

“I’m getting better, too,” Lance said. 

Keith’s eyebrows rose.

The power in Lance’s palm was certainly impressive. He’d been practicing. He let the orb slowly fizzle out, since releasing it would likely cause an intense thunderstorm. It took several minutes for the air to settle, and once it did, he couldn’t stop grinning. 

“Looks like you’re leaning, too,” Keith said, impressed.

Lance only laughed.

Keith gave him a quiet huff of laughter in return. It was about as expressive as he got, but Lance liked him anyway. He didn’t protest when Keith yanked him closer, settling Lance against his side. Keith wouldn’t be able to stay for long.

So, while he could, Lance let magic seep into his eyes, only so he could see the light glittering in Keith’s properly.


	95. Keith/Lance - Caterpillar

Lance spread himself out on the grass, enjoying the way the sunlight washed over his skin. His tunic was backless – most clothing that nymphs wore was, on account of their wings – so he was feeling pleasantly warmed by the morning air. He felt like his energy was being refilled, like he was a plant leaning towards the sun. In some ways, he supposed that was true. Nymphs got their energy from nature, and sunlight certainly fell into that category.

In any case, he was enjoying the morning. There was little for him to do, so he felt content to slack off and sunbath. 

That day, he was waiting for someone to come home. Not just any someone, either, but his mate. Keith had travelled to visit his family so that he could inform them that their daughter had been born healthy and strong. It wasn’t a long distance to travel, so Keith had decided to fly there instead of sending a message, since the news felt too personal to write in a simple letter.

Lance had missed him. He’d only been gone for a day, but that felt like forever when he was left by himself to take care of their newborn. Infant nymphs needed a lot of attention and delicate care, especially in regards to their wings, which were astoundingly fragile for the first few months of their lives. Even the smallest crease or tear in their wing membrane would cause irreparable damage. 

His daughter was currently dozing, swaddled in a soft blanket to keep her wings steady, which was giving Lance a chance to lounge around in the sun. As relaxed as he was, he was also keenly attuned to the sounds of his daughter, who was in her bassinet beneath the window closest to him. 

He expected Keith to be back in the next few hours, so once he’d had his fill of the morning sunlight, he pushed himself upright and went back inside. Mariposa was as he’d left her, perfectly content to doze in her blanket like a little caterpillar. Standing by her basinet, he was once again amazed by the sheer beauty she brought to his world. There was nothing she couldn’t make beautiful, he thought.

Gently, he reached a hand into the basinet, running his fingertips over the soft curve of her cheek. She had black hair like Keith, the strands just as thick as his, but her eyes – when they were open – were blue, like Lance’s. The little slope of her nose was his, too. But she’d gotten her pale skin from her father, and the pretty red tint to her slowly developing wings was from Keith as well. Lance was completely enamoured by how much she resembled him. She was surely going to become a very handsome, very beautiful young lady one day.

As if she felt his staring, she peeked her eyes open, her expression lighting up when she caught sight of him above her. She squirmed in her blanket, letting out an excited huff of air. He couldn’t help but grin at her, reaching in to unravel her blanket and scoop her up into his arms.

“Did you rest well, my sweet?” he cooed, nuzzling her cheek with the tip of his nose. She was far too young to do more than stare at him, but even just that filled him with a parental warmth. He was careful of her wings as he settled her in the crook of his arm, cradling her close. “Papa is going to be back soon, you know. Are you excited?”

Mariposa just stared, her eyes sparkling. Some said that infants this young weren’t yet capable of expressing emotion, but Lance believed otherwise. There was no way he could misinterpret the happiness on his child’s face. It warmed him more than all the sunlight in the world.

When Keith finally arrived back, Lance was out sitting in the grass again, though he’d gravitated beneath the shade of a tree to protect Mariposa’s skin. She had been fed and was asleep once more, her arms curled into her chest, her face turned towards Lance. He had her leaning against him, so that her wings were exposed to the air in order to help their growth. Every time a breeze shifted the leaves above them and a shaft of sunlight fell through, her wings shimmered with colour. It was incredibly mesmerizing.

“Keith,” Lance breathed, unable to contain his smile as Keith landed on the ground beside him, his wings fluttering to a stop against his back. “Welcome home.”

“I missed you,” Keith said. He crouched, one knee pressed into the grass so he could bend and press a kiss first to the back of Mariposa’s head, and then to Lance’s lips. “How are you? How is she?”

“We’re both fine,” Lance chuckled. “I think she missed you, though.”

The corner of Keith’s mouth quirked up. “She looks perfectly content to me.”

“Here.” Lance carefully passed Mariposa to Keith. He could see Keith’s eagerness to hold her, even if his mate would never take her from Lance’s arms. Keith took the greatest care when he held her, like he was frightened of breaking her. She looked protected in his arms, like nothing could hurt her while he held her. 

A small smile graced Keith’s expression as he gazed down at Mariposa’s sleeping face. “I missed her so much,” he confessed. “I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone this much.”

Lance reached forwards to tuck strands of Keith’s hair behind his ears, so that his view was unobstructed. His mate didn’t once turn his adoring gaze away from their daughter. “What did your parents say?”

“They want to meet her,” Keith said. “And they send their well wishes.”

Most nymphs kept their child to themselves for at least a month after their birth. Since infants were so fragile, it was best to keep them exposed only to their parents. Being passed around from family member to family member would risk damaging their wings, after all, no matter how careful everyone was. It would be a few more weeks before anyone would be allowed to visit.

“And they like her name,” Keith added.

Lance laughed. It had taken them two days to name her, since nothing seemed to quite live up to her beauty. In the end, Lance had chosen her name. It suited her well.

Keith slowly lowered himself down beside Lance, leaning against the tree trunk beside him. “It’s good to be home,” he sighed. 

Lance rested his head on Keith’s shoulder. He couldn’t agree more.


	96. Keith/Lance - Trusting

Keith hated secrets. 

All his life, he’d had a lot of them. They crowded behind his teeth and in his head and made it impossible to exhale. Secrets were dangerous. They were lies hidden by the pretence of protecting others from information that would potentially hurt them. He comforted himself by saying that, when he was king, he would be honest. But that was a long way off still.

Perhaps the worst secret of all was that he loved a boy he couldn’t love.

As prince, there were certain expectations placed on him that he couldn’t avoid. Marrying a woman and producing an heir was one of them – the most important one.

And the one he wanted to do the absolute least.

It was something that deeply troubled him. He played at being the good prince, attending balls and dancing with foreign princesses and the daughters of nobles. He smiled and socialised when he had to. But he wasn’t happy. He hated the heady scent of perfume, and the cold press of a woman’s bracelets against his wrists when they held hands. Hated the swish of a dress against his legs when they danced, and the bell-like laughter women had. Hated the softness of a woman’s body, and how foreign and strange one felt against his own.

A weariness settled in him over the years. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t accept his future, knowing what was expected of him. Maybe if he hadn’t met Lance, he might have one day surrendered to that future, but life had made their paths cross, and now Keith was more conflicted over his secrets than ever.

No one knew he loved Lance. He could hardly believe it himself. But he supposed everyone fell in love with Lance, at least a little bit. A charismatic prince with good looks and an easy going temperament was sure to draw looks, after all. Lance had certainly drawn Keith’s attention. 

As it turned out, keeping secrets was something princes often had to do. Lance had his own fair share of them, even though his parents were far more lenient with him. He was the second child, and thus it was his older sister’s children who would inherit the throne – it was she who was expected to marry and carry on the line. Of course, that didn’t mean there weren’t expectations imposed on Lance. His shoulders were burdened by them, just as Keith’s were.

Perhaps that was why they gravitated towards one another. No one understood Keith’s internal conflicts like Lance, because Lance had the same ones.

Keith considered himself lucky that he often got the chance to see Lance. Their kingdoms shared a border and thus they were always in each other’s pockets, especially now that they were both of socialising age. It meant that it wasn’t strange for them to be seen together. They were fostering relations, as it were. Just not the relations people might think.

A simple sort of drowsiness swam through his mind. It was late at night when he opened his eyes, and for a moment, he felt so content that he wanted nothing more than to sink back into sleep. He didn’t, because he knew nothing would be so easy for him. A moment passed before he fully came back to himself.

He’d fallen asleep in the palace gardens, which in itself wasn’t that strange. There were small private areas all over the grounds, including this one. Tall hedges and vine-covered archways protected him from view from almost all sides, except from someone specifically looking here, if anyone chose to do so. The sensation of cool grass tickling the back of his neck, left exposed by his loose collar, was refreshing, but it was a sensation eclipsed by the pins and needles in his arm.

Turning his head, he found Lance cradled against him. The prince was fast asleep, his face turned into Keith’s chest. His usually styled hair was dishevelled, sticking up in every direction. In sleep, his expression was soft and unguarded, completely trusting that Keith would keep him comfortable. There was something so innocent about him like this, with his hands curled into his chest, his knees tucked up to knock against Keith’s, his cheek pressed in an unflattering but strangely endearing away. He looked like he was a minute away from drooling, and Keith shouldn’t have found any of that attractive, but he did.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. They’d snuck off together – mischievous princes, doing what boys did – and found somewhere where they could be alone together. It had been early afternoon, then. Now the sky was dark, and the lanterns around the garden had been lit. Keith could see their faint orange glow through the hedges, and it made a wave of panic swell in him. He took a steady breath, and slowly pushed himself upright. Lance mumbled a complaint, clutching at Keith’s arm.

He was so trusting, Keith thought. An unexpected wave of affection came over him.

Reluctantly, he shook Lance’s shoulder. “Time to wake up.”

Lance grumbled again, his eyes scrunching open. “Keith…?”

“We fell asleep,” Keith explained. Unable to help himself, he brushed strands of Lance’s hair away from his forehead, and cupped Lance’s cheek in his palm. “We have to go back.”

Lance blinked at him, looking crestfallen but trying to hide it. He sat up, running a hand through his hair to rid it of blades of grass. “It’s late…”

Keith nodded. 

From somewhere close by in the garden, a voice emerged. Keith stiffened, listening as footsteps approached. He knew the sound of them well – a pair of royal guards, likely on their first run of patrol for the evening. They’d round the corner and see him and Lance any second now.

Lance had gone pale. As confident as he was, he knew just as well as Keith did that they couldn’t be caught like this.

Grabbing Lance around the waist, Keith dragged them between two of the hedges. He was lucky Lance’s frame was quite slender, despite his broad shoulders, because it meant they could both crouch in the small space available. Lance was easy to pin to his chest, their legs awkwardly angled, Lance’s head stuffed beneath Keith’s tilted chin. They were so close that they were breathing in each other’s air, and despite the chill going down Keith’s spine, he felt unexpectedly flushed. 

They waited a moment, silent. The guards strode past where they’d been resting, not noticing the indents in the grass. Keith shrunk away from the light of their lantern, tucking Lance tighter against him. 

The guards passed.

Keith let out a tense exhale, his grip on Lance easing. “Damnit,” he said to no one. 

Lance just nodded. He pressed his face against Keith’s neck. “Let’s not fall asleep next time,” he mumbled, at which Keith laughed a little. “Though I did enjoy it.”

“Can’t say I didn’t,” Keith admitted.

Lance snickered. He pressed a small kiss to Keith’s neck, then grabbed him by the collar to press one to his lips, too. “Let’s go back, then,” he sighed.

Keith nodded. 

He still despised secrets, but this was one he’d stubbornly keep.


	97. Keith/Lance - Hackles

Grumbling, Lance adjusted his coat, trying to make himself feel more comfortable in it. He hadn’t expected the weather to turn this cold this quickly, and was unprepared for it in every sense. None of his jackets were warm enough, since he’d cleared out his winter wardrobe last season, when he’d moved in with Keith.

“Cold?” a knowing voice asked.

Lance only huffed. “Not all of us run as hot as a furnace, you know,” he said, haughty, his nose turned up. 

Hands inched around his waist, pulling him back against a warm chest. “Why not stay inside?” Keith asked next, pressing his cheek to Lance’s neck. “It’s warmer in here.”

“I need air.” Lance finally managed to get the coat’s buttons done up properly, which made it fit a little better. It was Keith’s coat, though he didn’t wear it often. It wasn’t long on Lance, since Lance was basically the same height as Keith, but Keith was definitely broader in the shoulders than him. There, the coat swamped him, hanging awkwardly off his shoulders like an overlarge sweater. “I won’t be gone long, anyway.”

Keith hummed. “Must you be gone at all?”

Lance tried, and failed, to suppress a smile. He let out a small, questioning wave of magic, one that Keith could feel – the tightening of his hands on Lance’s hips was proof of that. They were close enough that Lance’s magic could read Keith’s, giving him a sense of what Keith was thinking and feeling. He knew Keith didn’t like it when Lance went out without him, only because he missed him. He’d never stop Lance from doing what he wanted, since they were very mindful of each other’s independence, but Keith was still prone to pouting.

Years ago, when they weren’t as close, Keith probably wouldn’t have shown so much emotion. He’d been very stone-faced, and very reluctant to open up. Lance relished any time Keith let himself be emotional or clingy.

“You know how it is,” Lance said, patting Keith’s hand. He liked to get out and explore, and fresh air always lightened his mood. Lance’s magic was a little more naturally inclined than Keith’s, anyway. He felt truly at ease when he was by a water source, especially if it was the ocean – they lived less than a ten minute walk from the nearest beach.

But Lance supposed that Keith’s clinginess wasn’t unjustified. He could sense a faint flutter of worry on Keith’s emotions, and it made him consider his words carefully. Lately, their town, as well as the neighbouring ones, had been plagued by rogue mages. Not many, but enough to be a concern.

Rogue mages were those who had been corrupted by magic. It was a difficult thing to become, because magic was a very honest thing, a very picky thing. If used for the wrong reasons, whatever those may be, it turned on the user, cutting itself off. Their magic would slowly drain away, leaving them starved and desperate for more. Stolen magic was rotten magic, and when a rogue mage siphoned it from someone else, it never lasted long in them. It waned and wilted, like a plant left unwatered. 

That was why they were dangerous. They went through victims at a fast pace, hungering for more and more magic as theirs faded.

“I’ll be alright,” Lance eventually said. Even though his magic was usually used for healing, he could attack, too. He wasn’t defenceless.

“I know,” Keith murmured. He and Lance had sparred countless times, and they knew each other’s strength well. He lifted his head out of Lance’s neck, and a wave of red magic expanded around their feet. “Take Cosmo with you, please.”

The wolf-dog appeared out of the summoning circle with a flash of red sparks. Cosmo was Keith’s familiar, and his most trusted companion. The wolf-dog was quite an interesting and rare animal. His fur was dark, aside from a silver mane that went from the top of his head to the tip of his tail. Blue markings stook stark around his eyes, over his ears, and on his legs. Not only was he ferocious, with his sharp claws and fearsome fangs, but he could teleport at will, and take people with him. He was loyal and protective and mirrored Keith’s emotions.

It had surprised Lance, at first, how protective Cosmo could be. He’d taken to Lance rather quickly. If anything, that was an indication of how much Keith had liked him, when their relationship was still tentative. It had embarrassed Keith to no end that his emotions were always outed by his familiar.

Cosmo slept at the foot of their bed, and often stayed awake all night, watching over them while they slept. Keith didn’t limit which plane of existence Cosmo could stay on, which some mages did with their familiars. Cosmo was free to move between the physical one, their one, and the adjacent realm where familiars lived whenever he pleased. 

“I’m sure he won’t mind a walk,” Lance said, smiling at the sight of the wolf-dog. Cosmo blinked at them, assessing, before pressing his face into Lance’s open palms for a pat.

Keith hummed. He seemed to share a thought with Cosmo as they stared at one another for a moment, before coming to some silent agreement. “Don’t be too long,” he said, as he finally let go of Lance. 

“I won’t,” Lance repeated.

The air outside was as chilly as expected. Cosmo padded along beside him, completely unfazed by the weather. He was large, even for a wolf-dog, coming up almost to Lance’s shoulders. It was hard to feel vulnerable with Cosmo by his side.

The town was quiet as he walked. With the changing of seasons, the trees and plants were starting to shed their leaves. No snow had fallen yet, but Lance expected it would soon. He much preferred summer, since it was perfect swimming weather, but there was a sharp charm to winter that he liked, too.

He was only about twenty minutes into his walk when he felt an uneasy chill go down his spine, one that had nothing to do with the weather. This part of town wasn’t well populated – it was more of a nature trail than a suburb, really. In summer, lots of people walked there, and played or picnicked in the open fields. But it was empty today.

At least, it looked empty.

Lance knew better than to ignore his instincts. He paused, drawing his hands out of his pockets. Beside him, Cosmo bristled, lips peeling back to reveal his fangs. Lance looked around, but couldn’t see anything. “What is it, boy?”

A wave of black energy slammed into Lance’s back, shattering around his body like glass. He cried out as he was thrown to the ground, feeling a sharp sensation rip into his back through his clothes. Dark magic prickled at his spine, sucking the air from his lungs. He suddenly felt like his bones had been turned into fragile shells, easily crushed by even the gentlest of tides.

It hurt to lift his head, but he forced his neck to move. He couldn’t push himself off the ground, but he saw a figure behind him. Shadows flickered off their skin as if they’d been set on fire. Under their hood and stringy hair, he could see unnaturally pale skin marked by pulsing black veins, like their blood had turned to ink. 

It was the mark of a rogue, the mark of someone being rotted from the inside out by their own magic.

Beside him, Cosmo let out the angriest snarl Lance had ever heard. The wolf-dog charged forwards, faster than the rogue mage could anticipate. His teeth clamped over the rogue’s shoulder, sending blood splattering across the ground. The rogue let out a strangled scream, but it was drowned out by Cosmo’s snarling.

Cosmo shook his head, rattling the rogue around like a doll. The rogue shoved their fingers in Cosmo’s mouth, trying to pry his jaw open, but Cosmo was stronger. His fangs sunk in deeper, until Lance was sure there was more blood streaming down their shoulder than in their body.

Lance tried to push himself up, but he was drained of energy. “Cosmo,” he croaked.

Finally, the wolf-dog let go. The rogue crumpled, and Cosmo let out a ringing howl, one that bounced off every nearby surface. In a flash of blue energy, Cosmo appeared beside Lance, standing over him with his teeth still bared. Lance’s vision spun, and he let out a weak groan. One hit and he was already so drained…

He must have blacked out, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up to Keith crouched beside him, the familiar ceiling of their living room above their heads. “What happened…?” 

“Cosmo teleported you back to me,” Keith explained. He had Lance cradled in his arms, propped upright. There was a simmering anger behind Keith’s eyes, one only thinly veiled. “The town guard captured the rogue.”

Lance just groaned. “My body feels so heavy. I didn’t even sense them until they attacked…”

“It’s alright, save your energy.” Keith’s expression softened a little, anger bleeding into frustration. 

Cosmo nudged his way between them, folding his large form down around them. He let out a little growl, which confused Lance – was he growling at Keith?

Noticing his confusion, Keith let out a weak peal of laughter. “He’s so protective of you,” Keith said. “He wouldn’t let me come closer, at first. It’s like he didn’t recognise me.”

Lance’s eyes widened. One of the strongest bonds in the world was the one between a familiar and their mage. Nothing could get between them. They were almost like one being split into two bodies. Lance had never seen Cosmo act aggressive towards Keith. He was never anything less than perfectly faithful. 

So he was incredibly flattered to think that Cosmo was so protective of him. Even now, the wolf-dog was sniffing at Lance’s hair and pressing closer, his ears perked and swivelling, his hackles still raised. 

“Good boy,” Lance whispered, patting Cosmo’s face with a slow, heavy hand.

Keith nodded in agreement. He didn’t seem at all put off that Cosmo cared so much for Lance – rather, he looked quite satisfied. He and Cosmo shared another look, and this time Lance felt like he could read their minds.

He’d never felt so loved.

And, in return, he’d never felt his heart be so filled by his love for his partner and their wolf-dog companion.

“You should rest,” Keith said, lifting him up and depositing him on the couch. “It’ll be a while before you regain all your energy.”

Lance hummed. Rest sounded good.

Keith joined him on the couch, and Cosmo looked over them, their watchful guardian.


	98. Keith/Lance - Weapon

The secret clawed at his throat, talons making streaks through his tender flesh, splitting his skin open bright red. Even thinking of spilling the secret made it impossible to breathe out. It strangled him, like hands ringed around his neck. They squeezed every time he thought about the words binding him.

_You can never tell anyone who you really are._

 

The gun felt solid in Lance’s hands, its metal slowly warming against the bare skin of his fingers. He weighed the weapon in his hand, eyes tracing its shape. He flicked the safety off.

Ahead, the interior doorway to the loading dock slowly rolled up. The warehouse beyond the door was dark, lit only by moonlight struggling to pierce through the misty, fogged windows lining the upper portion of the wall. Lance could see better than any of the hired hands waiting in the corridor, but the darkness filled him with unease. Aside from the stretched squares of light on the ground made from the windows, there was nothing but shadow beyond the doorway.

A hand went up, man at the mouth of the corridor gesturing as the roller door came to a creaking halt. Lance watched that hand, waiting for its spread fingers to close. The moment the signal was given, everyone rushed forwards.

Gunshots immediately broke through the silence.

Lance waited at the back, focusing on the quiet sounds of his own even breathing as he waited for all the hired hands to stream past him. He held the gun loosely in his hand, dangling from his fingertips. It was loaded. A gun felt different when it was empty of bullets. This one was not empty.

One step, and then another. He approached the warehouse, passing beneath the roller door into the wide, cluttered space beyond. Piles of large shipping crates sat haphazardly stacked like children’s toys, some pried open with crowbars, others untouched. Many were already riddled with bullet holes. He didn’t care what was in them. He didn’t need to know.

The night before, he’d come to this place to learn its layout. The warehouse functioned as a storage yard for cargo that came off of ships from the adjacent port. It wasn’t heavily patrolled at night, since the locks were thought to be enough. Anyone with even the slightest offensive ability could destroy them, but how were normal humans meant to know better?

A bullet whizzed past his head, close enough that he could feel the heat of it against his cheek. He lifted his gaze from the gun.

The mafia hands were easy to tell from the agency officers. They wore all black like it was a uniform, and had mafia-issued guns, ones stolen from ammunition lockers and weapon shipments and bought off the black market. It didn’t matter how much they differed in size or appearance, they all looked the same to him. Years and years of working in the mafia had proven to him just how simple humans were. They were easy to manipulate, easy to control, easy to read.

Easy to misdirect.

“Take out the agency officers,” his boss had said. “I’m tired of their constant prodding.”

It was true that the agency had become more aggressive of late. They’d started collecting people with abilities, and were always dogging the heels of the mafia. They were a threat on the side of the law, and were thus everything the mafia despised. It was almost childlike, he thought. The way they picked sides, as if one were more virtuous than the other, or one more justifiable than the other.

Still, he raised his gun.

There was something satisfying about making a perfect shot. He never missed. The bullets from his gun always buried themselves in the foreheads of whomever was foolish to stand on the other side of the muzzle. He didn’t need to look towards where he shot anymore. The bullets met their mark anyway. His arm didn’t feel like his arm as he held it straight out in front of him, the trigger pulled back. A gun only had so many bullets, but his were never wasted.

“Take out the agency officers,” his boss had said.

That was too easy.

The agency officers looked nothing like the mafia hands. They were easier to distinguish. There was a certain air to them, one of superiority and righteousness. Belief in what they were doing motivated them, emboldened them. He could see it in the set of their shoulders. It was like something physical they could carry around with them. It fascinated him.

But he killed them anyway. He’d been told to.

Another bullet ripped past him, tearing through the sleeve of his coat. The burn of it grazing his skin hardly registered. Yet another came for his face, but the shield he always had around him sent it pinging off into the shadows. An undulation of faint blue light in the shape of a dome briefly obscured his vision, shimmering around him. Defensive. Automatic.

Blood splattered the floor beside him. Mafia hands punched full of holes crumpled to the ground, their lives ended. No one would care about them. They were replaceable. Their blood stained everything – the concrete, the shipping crates, Lance’s shoes if they happened to be close enough. They were disgusting. He felt nothing at their deaths except an old echo of frustration.

If they could die so easily, why was he cursed to live like this?

A ripple of energy crashed through the warehouse. Any of the mafia hands still standing were thrown back against the wall, one even being tossed down the corridor they’d come through as if he weighed nothing. Only Lance remained standing, that shield of blue light dispelling the energy before it could reach him.

Reluctant, he lowered his gun. The information they’d been given said that this raid wasn’t being conducted by any agency officers with abilities. Perhaps Lance being here had drawn them out, but either way, that information had been wrong. The boss would not be pleased.

The ability-user stood across from him, legs planted wide, an angry look on his face. Blood had splattered his cheek, though it didn’t seem like it was his own. Ghostly red flames flickered off his hands, like wisps of something that was once there but wasn’t anymore. Lance could sense his power. It was raw and immense, two things Lance particularly despised in an ability-user. It was a dangerous and often deadly combination.

There weren’t many agency officers left standing, but he was disappointed to see that not many had been killed. Those normal humans couldn’t hide their breathing well, and Lance could hear them panting for breath, gross, gasping, wet noises that sent irritation running down his spine. They’d taken cover behind the shipping crates, and had dragged their fallen officers with them. Lance could tell that the only ones who had died were the ones he’d shot.

He supposed that was to be expected. Anytime the boss sent him to do the mafia’s dirty work, the hired hands sent with him weren’t there to help.

They were there to be human shields. Distractions. As sick as it was – for humans to use another human that way, to sacrifice them for the sake of someone unlike them, even if that someone was a mere puppet – it worked. Lance didn’t complain.

Not that he could.

Sensing a change in the fight, Lance lowered the gun, his finger easing off the trigger. He stared at the ability-user, waiting. He’d played this game countless times before.

Red energy crackled in the air as the ability-user made his move. Streaks like lightning tore through the ground, cracking the concrete like it was cheap drywall. Lance eased his shield and let the energy grab him, coiling around his wrists and throat. Squeezing. He gasped for air, because even a monster like him needed to breathe, but it didn’t hurt. Pain had long since lost its edge on him.

The gun clattered to the floor.

“I’m going to ask questions, and you’re going to answer,” the ability-user growled. He stalked closer, flanked by agency officers. At least one of them was also an ability-user, which made Lance click his tongue. This was not how he’d expected the evening to go.

From this close, he could see the suspicion on the ability-user’s face. He was young for an agency officer, Lance thought. They were probably the same age, at least based on outward appearance. The ability-user had the most unusual indigo eyes. They were utterly untrusting.

“Where is the Blue Lion?” the ability-user demanded.

Lance’s eyebrows shot up. That was even more unexpected. He tugged on his arms, but when the ability-user’s binds proved unmoving, he carefully weighed his words. The coil around his throat was only just loose enough to talk. “I’m surprised you know that name.”

The ability-user’s expression hardened. “Answer the question.”

The coil tightened, crackling with red energy. Lance gasped again as it seared his skin. This sort of offensive ability was incredibly rare, and he found himself almost jealous of it. It was a dangerous thing, to be considered rare. He knew that well enough.

“Where do you think?” he countered, his tone edging on laughter. “Under the boot of the boss, of course. He’d never risk letting go of his precious Blue Lion.”

“Tell me their name,” the ability-user demanded. When Lance didn’t answer, the officers flanking him raised their weapons. They still had bullets. Lance could tell.

“Who’s to say they even have a name anymore?” he challenged. 

It was a fair question. The only reason the mafia hadn’t been crushed by the agency and the law was because of its cutthroat strength. Not only were the bosses always merciless and utterly controlling, but they were excessively intelligent and manipulative, too. The current boss more so than any Lance had seen before. He thought three steps ahead of everyone, even his own underlings. There was no one alive on the planet that could lie to the boss.

That was maybe the most dangerous thing of all about him, because no normal human could be so powerful.

The boss was an ability-user, like Lance. Like the man currently pinning him. The boss couldn’t be deceived. He could bind people to promises, to objects, to whims. If he told someone they’d die when the boss went to sleep that night, they’d drop dead that evening, with not a single wound on them. A single sentence was all the boss needed to bind someone to his will, whatever that will may be.

Because of that, the boss had gained a collection of his own over the years. Of underlings who were sworn to loyalty – the second they thought to betray the boss, they were promised to an excruciating death. Of traders and mercenaries who were bound by words to give the boss what he wanted, when he wanted it, lest they spontaneously burst into inextinguishable flames. Of one particular ability-user, whose ability he’d coveted so much that he’d trapped them in a contract they couldn’t escape from, one that completely erased their identity.

His mysterious Blue Lion.

The agency had been after the Blue Lion for years. Those who knew of the Blue Lion knew that their ability was considered to be one of the most powerful in existence. They were a weapon in the wrong hands. But no one knew who they were, or had even come close to figuring out their identity. Lance was close enough to the boss to know that. 

“Their name,” the ability-user pressed, tightening his grip on the energy around Lance’s throat.

Lance had tired of this game. It was over rehearsed. 

A flair of blue light circled each of his wrists. Pushing against the strength of the coils, Lance dispelled them, watching them shatter like smoke broken by a wave of a hand. He grabbed the one around his throat and yanked, uncaring that it dug into his skin like barbed wire, drawing shallow cuts across the front of his neck. It disappeared, too.

“This is futile,” he said. 

A pulse of energy circled his feet, rising up at his command. He met the eyes of the ability-user and held out his arm, palm facing forwards. Streaks of his energy flew forwards, shaped like marbles made from water droplets. They struck the knees of the agency officers all at the same time, tunnelling right through skin and bone to pierce through the other side, their trajectory only stopped by the wall a distance behind them. Their screams echoed around the warehouse as they collapsed to the ground like dominoes.

The ability-user retaliated with a growl, lashing forwards with those coils of energy. They struck at Lance’s shield, whip-sharp. Nothing had ever broken through it before, but now it cracked under the force of the energy, spider webbing like glass.

Could they not see he was being merciful? Killing with a gun was one thing, but this was another. This was harder. When he never missed, killing with his ability was overkill. It was overindulgent. That’s what he told himself.

(Because the boss put the gun in his hand. That was how it worked. He’d never pick one up unless he was told to, or unless it was passed directly into his palm. Using his power was something he had to choose to do.)

Lance lashed out again, feeling a wave of frustration well up in him. His energy slammed into the space where the ability-user had just been, like a wave of solid water that cracked the ground beneath his feet. The ability-user was fast, fast enough to dodge attacks. He threw out his arm and a dagger of his red energy pierced Lance’s wave, scattering it.

A battle of power, then.

Energy crackled between them. Two opposing forces. Fights between ability-users with offensive capabilities was always terrible. It was like a pressure built between them, until there was a piercing whistle on the air, and it felt hard to keep standing upright. Red and blue collided over and over, clashing like two shields banging together. Lance kept his eyes on the ability-user, unable to look away. There was just something about the look in his eye that made Lance’s stomach churn with nerves.

“This is futile,” he repeated, voice rising. “You’ll never find the Blue Lion. No one ever will. Why do you even try?”

He was getting angry. It had been so long since he’d felt this way that his concentration began to slip. Energy slammed into him, sending him flying back into the wall behind him. The concrete dented. Any normal human would have had their spine snapped, but he only felt winded.

That one moment of weakness was enough for the ability-user to charge forwards. This time it was his physical hand that clasped Lance by the neck, pinning him up off the ground. Lance scratched at his wrist, even as coils tightened around his own, holding him still. There was a struggle of strength – Lance’s arms trembled as he tried to free his throat, and the ability-user’s arms trembled as he tried to keep Lance still. Red speared up around him like blades of lightning ready to sink into Lance’s flesh at any moment. Blue manifested into existence like a pulsing current, a slinking wave of energy coiling infinity signs around and between them, threatening to constrict the second Lance willed it to.

An impasse.

“Why?” Lance demanded again. What was so special about the Blue Lion that the agency would go so far to find them?

The ability-user met his glare. “I’m going to save them,” he said.

Lance’s energy wavered. He could control his body, but he couldn’t control the way the energy flinched, a violent wince that throbbed around them. His grip on the ability-user’s wrist went from clawing to gripping, squeezing so hard he felt bones grind. “What?”

“I’m going to save them,” the ability-user repeated. That look was back in his eyes again, that one that made Lance feel sick to his stomach. “That’s what we do. We save people.”

“Who’s to say they want to be saved?” Lance spat. 

“Who’s to say they don’t?”

Lance ground his teeth together. No one had ever wanted to save the Blue Lion before. It sounded crazy. “The boss’s bindings are unbreakable. There’s no way you can accomplish that.”

“That’s not going to stop me from trying.”

Lance was panting now. The grip on his throat had eased but something else was tearing at him. Something much, much worse. “You can’t,” he croaked.

The ability-user frowned at him. “Who is it?” he pressed. “Tell me. I can save them.”

Lance wanted to. He wanted to say their name. The secret clawed at him, climbing up his throat, sitting slick and heavy like black oil behind his teeth. He opened his mouth, syllables on his tongue.

But what came out instead was a strangled cry.

_You can never tell anyone who you really are._

His energy flared up of its own violation, lashing out and striking anything and everything nearby. It tore into the wall and ground, pulling chunks of concrete free. A nearby shipping crate splintered into a thousand pieces, spilling its contents across the floor. The ability-user was forced back as his energy was eradicated. 

This was the pain Lance was so desperate to escape. He felt himself convulse as his vision whited out. Years could have passed and he would have been none the wiser, but it was only mere seconds, if that.

Eventually he slumped to the ground, his energy heaving around him. He clutched at his throat, squeezing his eyes shut. They were wet. His cheeks were wet. This weakness, this vulnerability – it was the consequences of being bound. Of being held to a promise he couldn’t break, lest he suffer more than he could handle. 

It was strange to think that one sentence could shackle him so.

Slowly, he stood. His legs were shaking. All of him was shaking. He held out his hand, and his discarded gun rattled, before flying up into his grip. In one smooth movement, he spun on his heel, levelled the gun, and fired. His energy rushed across the length of the warehouse, tossing aside shipping crates to reveal the bodies behind them. He fired again. Any of the agents he could see still alive died with their next breath caught in their mouths.

He never missed. Never.

But there weren’t many there. Some had escaped. The other ability-user had escaped, too. The boss would be mad.

Lance turned the gun on the first ability-user. His eyes had gone wide, pupils constricted into pinpricks. He didn’t flinch as the gun stared him down. Words marched through Lances head over and over, but he couldn’t say anything. Even the slightest hint or clue would cause him searing pain, and he couldn’t handle that. He was too afraid of it.

“The Blue Lion is a lost cause.” It was hard to keep his voice even. “A tool. A weapon. They cannot be saved.”

“You’re right,” the ability-user said, making Lance pause. “They are a weapon. But they’re being _used._ Manipulated. Controlled. And that’s not right.”

Lance’s grip on the gun weakened.

“You’re crying,” he said.

Lance startled. He touched his face. His fingertips came away wet.

“The Blue Lion is worth saving,” the ability-user insisted. He didn’t look away. “I believe that.”

Lance felt his face screw up. The Blue Lion had killed dozens of people. Hundreds, even. There was nothing worth saving about them.

About him.

“It’s futile,” he said again, but his voice had a hiccup in it, and there was no conviction behind his words. He was just tired.

“That won’t stop me.”

Lance didn’t know how, but this person had worked it out. There was no way he couldn’t have. Something in the last few minutes had tipped him off, but it wasn’t anything Lance had said or done. If it was, he’d be dead. 

“My name is Keith,” the ability-user said. “Remember it. I’m going to save the Blue Lion.”

A smile curved at Lance’s mouth. “You can try,” he whispered.

And then he fired.

Red energy whipped up to successfully deflect the bullet, but by the time it shifted aside to clear the space between them, Lance had disappeared.


	99. Keith/Lance - Leader

Keith was not used to feeling jealous. 

It wasn’t a feeling he was very fond of, even though he accepted it for what it was. Most of the things he prided himself on, he was good at – he was skilled with a sword, was good at leading and directing his subordinates, was physically strong. He trained hard and never took his skills for granted. Being the leader of a district of espers and people with supernatural abilities required strength and an iron will, after all. He needed to be strong if he was to stay in control.

Of course, he didn’t do it by himself. Not anymore, at least. Most people like them, that is the ones who were a little more than just human, found someone whose powers were incredibly compatible with their own. Such a bond made them inseparable. After some time, they’d begin to feed off each other’s power, like an endless feedback loop. It made them powerful. 

Lance was just as strong as Keith, but in different ways. His ability allowed him to control water, hardening it into a flexible but sharp weapon. There were healing properties to it too, so he’d become the resident doctor for their district (at least, when their actual healers were otherwise preoccupied). He was practically Keith’s opposite, since Keith’s ability allowed him to control fire and heat.

Maybe that was why they were compatible. Opposites attract, and all that.

Considering all that he had, Keith had no reason to be jealous. He should have wanted for nothing. And yet...

From across the room, Keith watched Lance with a frown on his face. There was no denying that Lance was incredibly charismatic – that was one of the first things Keith had noticed about him. He could command a room just by walking into it. No one could stop their eyes from going to him. Even Keith fell prey to that compelling energy, and he’d been with Lance for years.

Most people in this district as well as the surrounding ones knew that he and Lance were together. It was unwise to go after someone’s fated partner, since they were usually quite protective of one another. The same could be said for him and Lance. As much as they were each other’s strength, they were also each other’s greatest weakness.

Keith almost wished someone had tried to separate them. Then he’d be completely justified in setting everything on fire. This passive aggression was far, far more irritating.

His district was currently hosting an event of sorts with the neighbouring ones. Leadership was hard to maintain, Keith knew that from firsthand experience. Only the strongest districts had any semblance of continuity when it came to who dominated them. With Lance by his side, he’d been able to control this district for years, and built up a healthy number of subordinates who looked to him for leadership and protection, two things he was capable of providing. 

There’d been a bit of turmoil in a few of the other districts lately, with old leaders falling and new ones rising, hence this meeting. It was meant to be civil but rarely was. There was an unmistakeable sense of competition in the air. Leaders like Keith, or anyone aspiring to be one, could smell weakness like blood in the water. That’s why Keith was hosting the event, to show off the strength of his district. On this night, his strength was prevailing over all the others.

But that didn’t seem to stop the newcomers from testing his resolve.

Keith could clearly tell they were flirting with Lance.

They’d been all over him from the moment they walked in the door. There were plenty of people here to talk to, some that were dangerous if they felt slighted or ignored, so it was bold to focus on one person so insistently. Especially since that person was taken.

Not that Lance would ever cheat on Keith. Their bond was deeper than that. It was irreplaceable, and unbreakable. Keith had never had the opportunity to be jealous before because that was common knowledge. Smart people didn’t want to make an enemy of Keith, and a sure fire way to do that was to mess with Lance.

For now, he committed himself to just watching. The opposing leader, a young man with hands that wandered too much, was hanging off of Lance like a flea. He laughed too loudly at Lance’s jokes, and smirked like he thought he had Lance in the palm of his hand. He was all too eager to touch Lance’s shoulder, or go for Lance’s waist.

Lance allowed it with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. If Keith hadn’t been able to see right past that smile, he might have felt the need to step in sooner. But he knew Lance better than that. A smile was a great weapon, and it took no energy to use. As cheerful as Lance was, his smiles could turn as sharp as glass at the slightest provocation. They were dangerous things, those smiles.

Keith felt a little flushed just thinking about them.

“Aren’t you going to do anything about that?”

Keith hummed, absentmindedly tilting his drink around to feel the shift of liquid tip from one side to the other. He was leaning against a wall across the room from Lance, watching him intently. It was crowded, but not oppressively so. He had a clear view of his partner, a feat Lance had no doubt orchestrated.

“Not yet,” he eventually answered.

Hunk’s worry was almost palpable. He was a close friend of Lance’s, and now Keith’s, too. He’d joined Keith’s district when Lance had drifted over, just before they’d combined forces and cemented their bond. He was watching Lance with a concerned expression, looking faintly uncomfortable. “That guy is way too handsy.”

Keith agreed, and he knew Hunk knew he agreed, but he didn’t say anything. If anyone overheard him slating another leader there would probably be trouble. “Lance can handle himself.”

Hunk huffed, but Keith was right. He wouldn’t contradict Keith’s orders anyway, since doing so would incur punishment.

Not that Keith would punish his friends. He rarely reprimanded his subordinates, since they rarely defied him. There was an understanding of give and take between them. Keith tried to be as fair as he could, even more so with people that Lance considered close. For the most part, he didn’t punish anyone without Lance’s opinion weighing in on the matter, anyway. He wasn’t the sole leader of this district, no matter how much it seemed that way.

“I don’t like this,” Hunk sighed.

Keith glanced him over. Hunk’s empathetic ability meant he could read emotions as if they’d been written on paper. That, combined with his super strength, should have made him an effective and fearsome soldier-type. But Hunk’s personality wasn’t that suited for combat. He was gentle-hearted and preferred to avoid violence as much as he could. As such, Keith used his empathy more than his strength. Hunk’s ability gave him a perfect way to suss out other people without having to speak to them, or gather information about them on the side.

If Hunk was this concerned, then there must be more to it.

He gave the room a quick once over. Many of his subordinates were here to socialise with other district members. One by one he met their eyes, reading their expressions and their energy in a way only a good leader could. They didn’t feel unsafe – why would they, with both of their leaders in the room? – but there was a thread of unease winding around between them.

They didn’t like someone else hitting on their leader, then. Keith almost smiled. A good leader could foster affection between their subordinates and themselves, and he’d certainly strived for that. He wanted his subordinates to fear his power, yes, but more than that, he wanted them to believe that that power was being used for them. For their protection. He’d avenge their injuries, save them from death, keep them from harm where he could. It was the same with Lance, though Lance was far more affectionate with their district than Keith was.

Perhaps that was why his subordinates were taking offense on his behalf.

And he couldn’t have that, could he?

“Here,” Keith said, passing his drink into Hunk’s hand.

Hunk made a surprised noise. “You’re going to do something, then?”

Keith just gave him a predatory smile. “Think Lance will find it chivalrous?”

Hunk snorted. They both knew Lance got all hot and bothered by Keith’s possessiveness of him.

Perhaps jealousy was a good thing to feel. In the end, it proved just how much he cared for Lance. As he made his way across the room, catching weary looks from his guests – he supposed he wasn’t able to mask his emotions on his expression, nor was he taking any measure to stop his powers from turning the heat up a little – he thought he was glad to be given this opportunity.

He would relish showing off his bond to Lance. Of showing that Lance belonged to him, and he to Lance. It was a mistake for anyone to think they could steal Lance from him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance glanced over. His smile never wavered, that same, viper-like one he’d taken on in the last few minutes. It made Keith’s dangerous grin widen. Lance was just as dangerous as Keith was, when he wanted to be.

As if Lance would ever let himself get stolen in the first place.


	100. Keith/Lance - Faery

It was unusual for a stranger to wander through the fey woods.

Mostly because fey had a habit of eating people who came into their territory. Faeries could be quite territorial, and had a nasty way of taking what they wanted, a way that usually involved a lot of teeth. Not all fey were so mean, but many were.

Lance liked to think he wasn’t. His particular subspecies of fey was a little more forgiving of wanderers, at least for the most part. They’d defend themselves if they had to, and would fight when provoked, but they didn’t eat just any person who unknowingly came into their home. 

He supposed that he was a little different to other faeries, even his own family. He was endlessly curious about the outside world, about the people beyond his glen. There was a lot he hadn’t seen or experienced, which was something he began to notice as he grew older. He knew a lot about other faeries, of course. The fey woods were as known to him as the back of his hand, even with as large and sprawling as it was. But beyond the tree line? It was a mystery. A tantalizing one.

Perhaps that was why he didn’t drive out strangers. They were a rare occurrence anyway, so it wasn’t like he had many opportunities to see them. Who could blame him for being curious?

Well, a lot of people could, come to think of it. His parents especially, who didn’t want him getting in trouble with people from outside the woods. But that was beside the point.

Like all fey, Lance had a sort of sixth sense for when people entered his territory. All fey marked their territory with magic, letting their energy expand and swell like a bubble until it pulsed against any nearby territories, solidifying like an invisible wall. Territories had strict edges – even crossing past a single branch belonging to another could be seen as an invasion. Of course, as long as permission was obtained, they could go where they pleased. Faeries were sticklers for the rules, after all. Everything they said was the truth, and every promise they made was a binding contract. That was just their nature. They couldn’t lie.

So it wasn’t like Lance could hide his curiosity, not from his parents and certainly not from himself. 

One evening, when the sky was bleeding orange light over the woods, Lance felt a telling prickle go down his spine. It made every inch of him stand on edge. His wings, thin and delicate like a dragonfly’s, stood perfectly still. It was like a breath of ice had gone down the back of his tunic.

Nevertheless, it sent a thrill through him. Strangers didn’t usually make it this far into the fey woods alive. They had to pass through countless territories to get to Lance’s, so he rarely had intruders. If they did manage to stray into his territory, it was usually when they were bleeding out, having already been attacked by other fey. 

That’s why he was surprised to sense someone in his territory. He abandoned the task he’d been doing – picking flowers from a meadow close to his home – in favour of taking off into the trees, moving between their wide branches and overhanging leaves with familiarity. He could see the expanse of his territory like a map in his mind; every tree, every branch, every flower. It was a perk of being a faerie, he thought. They were all like that no matter their temperament.

The stranger had entered from the easternmost point of Lance’s territory. The trees were the thickest there. He knew there was a road that cut through the fey woods, one that strangers sometimes tried to use, and that side of his territory was the closest to it. His territory didn’t quite intersect with the road, but it was close. Most fey didn’t claim territory beside the road, since it could be troublesome to have strangers wandering by so frequently, even if they were tasty. Not to mention fey preferred it when the land was left untouched by anyone other than themselves.

He found the stranger cautiously making his way through the trees, away from the road. Lance landed lightly on a wide branch, half obscured by its thick leaves. 

He wasn’t quite sure what he expected to see when it came to strangers. The scarce few times he’d come across them, they’d been bloody and desperate, injured and frightened. He’d always let them go, knowing they were probably frightened of faeries, and for good reason. 

This one was none of those things.

He walked through the trees on almost silent feet. He wasn’t a fey, since he had no wings on his back, but there was a certain animal quality to him that perplexed and attracted Lance. Trying to sense magic on him was futile, which only worsened Lance’s curiosity. More curious than anything, however was the fact that this stranger was utterly uninjured. His clothes were free of stains, and his skin was unmarred, aside from an old scar going down one cheek.

Unable to help himself, Lance leaned forwards, his eyes wide. He’d never seen or heard of anybody like this, nor sensed someone with so little presence. He wouldn’t have been surprised if this stranger had managed to sneak through other territories without being noticed, though how he managed to get around a faerie’s sixth sense was beyond him.

As he leaned forwards, the branch trembled, his weight too unevenly distributed for the bough. It let out a worrisome crack, sending leaves scattering to the floor.

Lance stiffened, every limb going still. The stranger’s gaze swung up towards him, defensive, an aggressive downturn of his mouth only just visible in the evening shadows. He immediately went for a dagger at his side, throwing it with frightening precision. Lance let out a yelp as it skimmed his cheek, the fright of it sending him toppling from the branch.

He hit the ground with a pained groan, kicking up a flurry of dry leaves. His breath caught in his throat when he pushed himself upright, finding another dagger pointed right at him.

Frightened, he sunk into his shoulders, wings curling tight against his back.

He could have used magic to save himself. The forest would respond to him, as it did to all fey. It was theirs to command, so long as they cared for it, respected it, and they always did. He was no exception.

But he didn’t want to use it. Something inside him told him not to, like a rush of instincts he’d never needed before. If push came to shove, he could protect himself, but he didn’t feel like he had to. There was just… something about this stranger. Something that drew him in. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Who are you?” the stranger demanded. His grip on his dagger was wavering, like he’d been struck with indecision. 

Lance hesitated. Should he run? Should he answer? 

In the end, he said, “My name is Lance.”

The stranger startled at the sound of his voice, like he hadn’t expected an answer. Knowing the reputation of fey, he probably didn’t. They weren’t the most hospitable bunch. 

“Um…” Lance’s eyes flickered down to the blade. It wasn’t a make he recognised – the metal was black, and indented with purple markings. Fey didn’t use black metal. “Can you point that… somewhere else?”

The stranger narrowed his eyes, scowling, but he pulled the dagger away from Lance’s nose. “How did you find me?”

Lance tilted his head to the side, confused. “You entered my territory,” he said, like it was a simple fact, because it was. “I sensed you when you stepped over the boundary. I’m a faery, you know.” He fluttered his wings for emphasis, though he kept them close to his back. Injured wings for a faery was little less than a death sentence. Even the smallest nick or cut meant they couldn’t fly. It all but paralysed them.

An irritated look briefly passed over the stranger’s face. He dug a pendant out from around his neck, brandishing it for Lance to see. It was a black stone carved with the same purple mark as his daggers, the one Lance had never seen before. “This hides my presence,” the stranger said. “No faery can sense me, not even if I step into their territory.”

Lance frowned. “But I did. You were easy to find.”

The stranger frowned too. He tucked the pendant back around his neck and brandished his dagger again. “So?” he challenged. “What are you going to do?”

“Do? About what?”

“I entered your territory.”

“Ah…”

Lance supposed it was a fair question. If he’d been any other faery, he probably would have driven this stranger away by force. Or eaten him. He was rather handsome, and some faeries said that pretty prey tasted better, not that Lance would know. Truthfully, the thought of eating another person sort of disgusted him, even if it wasn’t quite “eating”. They’d sink their teeth in, sure, but that was because it was the quickest way to rupture someone’s magic. It was the magic they bled that faeries feasted on, not the actual blood or body.

Though he thought that some might like that. The truly wild ones, like the ones that lived beneath water in dark lakes, or the ones who could transform into fearsome beasts.

“I have no interest in eating you, if that’s what you’re asking,” he huffed.

The stranger narrowed his eyes, suspicious once more. 

“Really,” Lance insisted. “Not all faeries are that vicious, you know.” Just most of them. “What are you doing in the fey woods anyway?”

Slowly, the stranger drew his knife away. “I’m… looking for something.”

“What?”

The stranger only scowled.

Lance scowled. “I already said I have no interest in eating you, you know. You can be a little forthcoming. At least tell me your name.”

The stranger let out a ragged sigh. “It’s Keith. And I’m looking for someone.”

Well, that was interesting. Now that the dagger was gone, Lance felt his interest rise again. Slowly, so as not to startle the stranger, he stood, dusting leaves off of his tunic. His knees were unfortunately stained green by the grass, but his clothes could be washed, so it wasn’t all bad.

“Someone? In the fey woods?”

“Yes.”

“Only faeries live here,” Lance said. “Who could you possibly be looking for?”

“I… don’t actually know,” Keith answered. “Someone important.” More to himself than to Lance, he muttered, “Someone special.”

Lance made an inquisitive noise, head tilted again. “Can I help?”

“Help? Why would you help me?”

“I’m curious,” Lance said, honest. “There’s no one better to explore the fey woods than a faery. Since I can actually move between territories without being eaten, unlike you.”

“I’m hidden from faeries,” Keith insisted. “Just not you.”

“Doesn’t that make me special?” Lance grinned, feeling mischievous. 

If possible, Keith seemed to flush. It was a very odd look on such a stern face, but Lance liked it. That sour expression made him laugh.

“Come,” Lance beckoned, letting his wings flutter just enough to get his feet off the ground. “We shouldn’t stay near the boundary. Someone is bound to overhear us.”

Keith didn’t seem keen to follow Lance, but he did anyway. “Is it true faeries can’t lie?”

“Not outright,” Lance said. “But we are very good at twisting words to suit ourselves. If you don’t know a faery well, then every word out of their mouth is probably a lie.”

“I don’t know you well. Or at all, really.”

“Well, that’s fair. But I’m not lying.”

“How am I meant to know if that’s the truth or not?”

“You’ll just have to believe me.” Lance shot Keith another teasing smile. He felt a little more confident now that he was in his element. This territory was his, and flying as he was, he felt like he had the upper hand if Keith really wanted to fight him.

Though Lance had a feeling Keith didn’t really want to fight him. It was that same instinct as before that told him that.

“This is really all your territory?” Keith asked, as they carried on through the forest. It was slower than Lance was used to, on account of Keith having to walk.

“Yes.” He paused for a moment, fluttering up through the canopy of trees to observe the last rays of sunlight. This slow pace was a little bothersome. Night wasn’t the best time to be wandering around the trees with a stranger. Mind made up, he drifted back down to Keith, who had waited for him with a surprising touch of patience. He held out his hand. “We have to go faster.”

Keith looked at his hand funny. 

Lance tried not to roll his eyes. He reached for Keith’s hand himself, and let his power lull out of him. A warm, gentle wind stirred the ground, making Lance’s tunic drift around him. He tightened his grip on Keith’s hand, and with the help of the wind, carried him off his feet.

“See?” Lance grinned.

Keith let out an uneasy noise, his grip on Lance’s hand tightening. When he wobbled, unsteady without the ground beneath him, he all but fell into Lance’s arms, hands crushing Lance’s shoulders.

“See?” Lance repeated, laughing. “I’m definitely special!”

Keith only made a small noise, gazing warily around them. Lance made sure to fly slowly, so as not to spook the poor man. They made it back to his glen in no time, before the moon had finished rising. A barrier of trees with hanging, curtain-like leaves parted as he approached, giving him a view of his modest home, built into a wide, moss-covered tree. Wood and clay tiles made up its exterior and marked its staggered roof. He’d lit lanterns inside before leaving, so a faint blue light spilled out of his windows, sending sparkling reflections out into the world beyond.

“Wow,” Keith said, like he couldn’t help himself.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Lance carefully lowered Keith to the ground, eventually letting go of his hand. “You can stay here, if you like, until you find who you’re looking for.”

“Why are you helping me?” Keith asked, looking up at him. Lance wondered if he looked pretty, with the moonlight falling through his wings. Then he wondered why he thought that.

“Because I want to,” he said. “Because I want to know about the world outside of the fey woods.”

“Why don’t you go see it for yourself?”

He gave Keith a sad smile. “I can’t. If I leave, then my territory will be swallowed up by the ones outside my borders. My home will be gone. There’s no guarantee I’d be able to get back to my family.”

Keith was silent for a moment. “I’ll tell you about the world, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for another 100 chapters! I really appreciate all the support I get on these chapters, since I quite enjoy writing them ❤ I was considering slowing down on writing every day, since I've been very busy with university work, and considering turning my attention to some of my original ideas, since I've never particularly fleshed any of them out. But I think I'd miss writing every day, since I've been doing it for years now, and I quite like being able to explore these little ideas.
> 
> As usual, I'd like to ask which were your favourites from this set of 100! I've really enjoyed writing the mafia and fantasy ones, myself. They're very fun to write!


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